


Becoming Him

by Babybucky1943



Series: History of the Winter Soldier [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Brainwashing, Cryofreeze, Dehumanization, Desperation, Flashbacks, Gen, Medical Experimentation, Medical Inaccuracies, Omorashi, electric shock, impersonal touch, touching without consent, violence towards Bucky, wetting pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-08-23 13:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20243563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babybucky1943/pseuds/Babybucky1943
Summary: I’ve had a request for a story to see what happens to Bucky after he falls off the train. I’ll give it a try. 💗





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LokiLaufeyson88](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LokiLaufeyson88).

Bucky Barnes slowly regained consciousness, hazy and barely registering anything except excruciating pain.

A buzzing and searing, ripping pain burned through his left side and he screamed until he had no voice left. 

Then, mercifully, the black nothingness took him again. 

/// 

Bucky awoke again, feeling like he was floating on a sea mixed of pain and haze. 

He couldn’t move much. But that could just be, because he couldn’t focus. 

His eyes couldn’t see. Was he blind?

All he saw was darkness. He tried to think but even a single coherent thought seemed impossible. Maybe he wasn’t even here. 

He closed his eyes, not sure if he’d even had them open, and dreamt then of snow and falling.

///

“He has not properly awakened, sir,” a voice said softly, next to his head. “The catatonia was deep enough we did not have to put him under.”

Bucky opened his eyes, disoriented and blinked in the brightness. He could see. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing however.

Several unfamiliar faces in lab coats. He must be in the hospital! He’d fallen. Fallen off the train! How had he even survived??

_Falling_ _into the ravine hearing Steve scream his name. _

A short, balding man in horn rimmed glasses was staring at him with wonder and earnest glee. “He is coming around! Beautiful!”

Bucky blinked. Something prodded his mind. Pain. The pain was mostly gone. His shoulder felt....he tried to think of a word to describe it. A full, heaviness; an abnormal thickness. He wanted to see. He lifted his left hand. 

To his surprise, a hand raised when his muscles commanded it to, but it wasn’t his! It was ....metal! He tried to throw it from him but instead the hand grabbed at another person in a lab coat who was right next to him. 

“Help me,” he begged, meaning to pull the man closer. The metal fingers snapped the man’s windpipe like it was nothing. 

Bucky dropped the struggling man in horror and started sobbing. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I-I don’t know—-“

The doctor with the glasses was still grinning, which was making Bucky highly uncomfortable. “Fery good,” he said in a strong Swiss accent. “You will be ze new fist of Hydra.”

He closed his eyes, willing it to be a nightmare and wanting to wake up next to Steve. He must have fallen asleep again because he was awakened some time later by someone poking at his shoulder. 

He automatically tried to grab at the intruder but his left arm was tied down. He fought until he was fully awake. His thoughts were finally clear. The hazy memory of the doctor saying something about the fist of Hydra made his stomach tense. 

Bucky thought about Hydra for a moment. Hydra....they had captured him and the howlies at Azzano! “Where’s that doctor? Can you take this arm off? I need to go home!”

The technician looked a little amused but turned. “Doctor, the subject wishes to see you.”

The doctor from Bucky’s nightmares came into view. “You are finally awake.” 

“I need to go home,” Bucky said firmly.

Zola laughed. “You haf no home. We found you dying in ze snow.”

“No! No! I can’t stay here! ” He protested. “I gotta find Steve!” 

“Stefen Rogers sinks you are dead,” the doctor said coldly, his smile disappearing. “You belong to us now.”

“I belong to the Army of the United States!” Bucky argued.“Wait! You’re Arnim Zola!” He said suddenly, finally, recognizing the doctor. 

“Yes,” Zola said. “Unfortunately, Red Skull was killed. Captain Rogers is also dead. There is no one here to safe you.”

Bucky sat, stunned. “Stevie? He’s....dead?”

“He crashed ze bomber under some heroic pretence of safing ze planet.” Zola was busily preparing several different syringes as he spoke. 

Bucky was left reeling. His poor sweet Stevie!! He let the tears clogging his throat, fall. 

Zola jabbed one of the syringes into his right arm and Bucky cried out, flailing. “OW!” 

“Restrain him completely,” Zola ordered. 

Bucky tried to fight but there were too many. He was strapped firmly down to the table and the doctor proceeded to inject each one of the six syringes into Bucky’s arm. 

He screamed and spit but that was all he could do. 

It didn’t take long before the lights started wavering and everything was floating in odd ways. He felt his stomach churn. What kind of trash had they put in him?? 

The dizziness got worse to the point where even laying down he could hardly stand it. 

“Help him up,” came the order.

Bucky felt the restraints being removed and he tried to resist being moved but it didn’t work. He was put on his feet and whatever had been in his stomach, quickly came out. 

He vomited onto the floor, wishing desperately he had died with Steve. 

He grabbed for purchase when he felt the hands letting him go. 

He pitched forward, barely breaking his fall with his own hands. He retched again, still dizzy and feeling awful. 

“Pick him up,” Zola demanded. “Put him in ze ozer room.”

Bucky was lifted and dragged to a different room where he was laid in a reclining chair and restrained. Again. For a few moments, Bucky was grateful to be stationary. 

Zola came in, puttering around, humming an off key tune. 

Bucky kept his eyes closed, willing the nausea to pass. A sudden sharp prick in his forearm startled him. 

He stared at the IV needle that Zola was busily threading under his skin and hooking it to a bag of what looked like water. 

“What is that?” He slurred. 

“You are dehydrated,” a different lab coat said, startling Bucky who hadn’t seen him there. At least he could understand him properly! 

He closed his eyes. As the bag dripped, the nausea and dizziness slowly abated. He felt some relief until another need made itself known. 

“Hey,” he said roughly, his throat sore from whatever hell he’d been through. 

The lab tech turned from where he was checking Bucky’s vitals. “Yes?”

Bucky blushed a little. He hadn’t had to ask to pee for a long time and it was embarrassing. “I gotta piss,” he said, willing the man to understand his urgency. 

The lab tech looked at Zola. “You want me to take him to the bathroom?”

Bucky looked between the two, horrified. What else would they do? “Please?” He added. 

Zola nodded. “Take him. But stay wis him.”

The tech unhooked the empty bag and helped him stand up.

Bucky went willingly in the tech’s grip, wanting only to get to a bathroom. 

The tech walked him to the urinal and stood, watching and waiting. 

Bucky flushed under the scrutiny but unzipped his pants and took himself out. “Sorry. I’m not used to bein’ watched.”

“Get used to it,” the tech said, unsympathetically. 

Bucky grimaced at that but fortunately need overtook embarrassment. 

He was a little shocked, however, at the strange, dark colour of his urine. 

The tech watching nodded. “You need more fluid.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He finished, washed, and let the tech put him back in the chair. 

A second bag of fluid was attached to his IV lock and he settled back. 

He wasn’t really surprised when he felt restraints go around his arms and waist. 

Actually it was kind of nice. Secure. The dizziness had returned after being up, accompanied by a ripping headache. 

He wished for a minute that he was home in Brooklyn with Steve and had his Mama’s home cooked broth to eat. That’d set him right. 

Of course, that train of thought made him think of Steve.

_“Bucky No! Hold on!” He’d tried to reach Steve’s hand...._

Steve was gone. Holding back tears increased the headache. 

He focused on where he was. The chair was....comfortable, if he thought positively.He had nothing much else to go back to if his Stevie was gone anyway! He would just make the best of it. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad... 

They were taking care of him. 

Weren’t they? 

He looked again, more closely at the metal appendage that was attached to his left shoulder. 

Yeah. They’d saved his life!

He almost laughed out loud. Who was he kidding? They had their own agenda. 

He was in the grip of Hydra and they were obviously intent on keeping their little soldier. 


	2. Chapter 2

After the third bag of fluid, Bucky felt incredibly full again. “Can I please use the bathroom?” He asked of the one lab tech still in the room. 

The technician turned to look at him as though he was some piece of equipment that was speaking out of turn. He scowled and turned back to the papers he was reading.

Bucky felt his bladder press. “I really need to go.”

The man turned and frowned. “Well. Hold it!”

Bucky waited patiently for five minutes before need pressed down again and he did his best to squeeze his thighs together. He was not going to humiliate himself. 

Ten more minutes passed and Bucky was squirming in earnest, his face sweating as he focused on staying dry. He tested the bond on his arm. If he could only put a hand between his legs! He whimpered a little with effort. 

After another five minutes he knew he couldn’t hold it much longer and then cleared his throat. “Please Sir?” He pleaded even though he wanted nothing more than to punch this asshole. The need had given way to desperation. And being restrained wasn’t helping! He twisted his hips as much as he could to stem the urge, fighting to get his hands out so he could press them against his crotch for pressure. 

With a frustrated sigh and an eye roll, the tech turned to him. “Such a needy asset,” he said sarcastically. He undid the restraints and grabbed Bucky’s right arm in a bone bruising grip. A burst of heat wet the front of his underwear and Bucky clenched harder. He pressed one hand to the front of his pants clinging vehemently to the last shred of dignity he had. 

In the bathroom he fumbled with his zipper, feeling another longer, hot wetness soak his underwear. He yanked his pants down and barely aimed before his bladder gave out. He groaned a little in relief. 

He wanted to go home so badly. He wondered if he could overtake the tech. 

Bucky eyed the long metal bar in the tech’s hand and thought better of making a break for it. That would hurt. His bladder was finally empty. “Thank you.” He whispered. 

The tech roughly pushed him down a hallway. He stopped at a cell door and looked at Bucky. “You pissed your pants?” He smirked staring at the wet spot. 

Bucky instinctively covered up the wet spot but his hand was slapped away. 

“You don’t cover yourself unless we say you can,” The tech snarled. “You’re nothing here except a weapon! Got that?” 

Bucky blushed. “Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

He was pushed roughly inside the cell. “Guess you’ll have to sleep in wet pants,.” The man laughed. 

Bucky felt angry at being treated like this. Surely, the army would be looking for him! They wouldn’t just leave him. He heaved a deep breath. His lower lip quivered with the emotions he was fighting. He was hungry and tired and so homesick. Did they mean to starve him? He looked around, spying a thin mattress on an iron bed frame. 

He sat on the bed for a few minutes pondering what the tech said. Was he just a weapon? Was that a good thing? It didn’t sound like it. He didn’t understand. He ran his flesh fingers slowly over the metal plates in the prosthetic. What did they want from him? His head hurt now from trying to figure it out.

Grateful to have somewhere to lay his weary body, he sank onto the lumpy mat and curled into a tight ball, closing his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone to bed hungry. Probably wouldn’t be the last. It took some time to fall asleep as unhappy thoughts crept like shadows into every part of his soul and gave birth to a hopelessness. He did finally fall asleep because he was still exhausted. 

Bucky woke when he was suddenly pulled out of bed and shoved to his feet . He whimpered and received a smack across the face. “Shut up!”

He sealed his lips, barely awake and feeling panicked. What were they doing with him now? He bit his lip to keep the tears at bay. He was far too sensitive his papa had always said. He needed to toughen up. Well, if papa could see him now, he would know that Bucky would learn to hold in his emotions. 

He kept his head down to hide his tears. 

The technician who woke him, hurried him down a brightly lit hallway. “You will not keep the doctor waiting.”

Bucky nodded. 

He was pushed back into the same chair from yesterday and the restraints were pulled tight. He could feel a slight numbness in his right arm. 

Zola entered with an entire team, then stood there watching him. He didn’t like being stared at and wiggled as much as he could in the discomfort of the tight bands. 

“Dr. Zola,” he said softly, “These restraints hurt.” 

The group laughed when a lab coat stepped forward and patted his head. “Poor stupid soldier.”

Bucky swallowed his frustration. He obviously wasn’t getting any sympathy. 

“What is your name?” The doctor asked briskly. He was eyeing him closely. 

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky answered immediately. 

A stinging slap came across his cheek and he looked up at the tech in confusion. The assistant stood next to him, hand still raised to strike again. He wondered what he’d said wrong. 

“No. You are the Asset. The new fist of Hydra!” Zola leered. “I will ask you again. What is your name?”

Bucky was bewildered and answered slowly. “James Buchanan Barnes?” He cowered. 

This time a punch hit him square on the right side of the head and he cried out, his ears ringing. He had to blink away the black spots that the punch had made behind his eyes. 

“Try again!” The tech growled.

Bucky blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes once more. What did they want him to say? “I don’t have any other name.” He said slowly, expecting to be hit again.

“You don’t have a _name_!” The tech corrected, putting his face so close to Bucky’s that he could smell his breath. “So! What is your name?”

Bucky stared at him as understanding dawned. Why were they doing this? It didn’t matter. If he tried to fight them he just got beaten. He let his chin fall to his chest. “I am no one.”

The team of techs nodded at each other. “Maybe he will be taught willingly.” 

“Maybe,” Zola agreed. He stepped close to Bucky and his gaze narrowed. “Who do you belong to?” 

“Hydra,” Bucky whispered. 

“And what is your new job?” The heavily accented voice continued. 

Bucky sighed slightly. “I am a weapon. The new fist of Hydra.”

Zola’s smile was discomfiting. “Fery good, Soldier.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky was taken to a room where he wasn’t restrained finally. There was a different person there. A Russian man. He knew he was Russian because of his accent and the fact that he immediately addressed Bucky in the strange language. 

Bucky sat at the table that he was pointed to. He cowered slightly again but said, “I’m sorry Sir. I don’t speak Russian.”

The man smiled a little. “You will. I am your handler. Sit Soldat. I will feed you.”

Bucky relaxed a little. 

The handler gave him a cup of....something... and then sat down with two plates of scrambled eggs. “You must understand that obedience is paramount. Obedience will be rewarded.” 

Bucky nodded slightly. “Yes Sir.” He was hungry enough that he drank the stuff in the cup without question. He nearly gagged but swallowed back what wanted to come up. At least it filled his belly somewhat. 

The handler offered him a forkful of eggs. “You will address me as Sir. My name is Kusnetzov.”

He met the handler’s eyes for a moment and nodded before taking the bite greedily. They were delicious! He was fed until he felt good. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to eat on his own but this handler seemed nice enough. 

After breakfast, the handler led him to the bathroom. “Use the toilet.”

Bucky felt his face heat. “I - I don’t have to.”

The handler gave a small displeased hum and Bucky quickly dropped his pants, face burning with humiliation. When he was done, he flushed and quickly washed his hands. 

Still feeling the sting of embarrassment, Bucky didn’t pay attention to what the handler was saying. They entered a different room and Bucky looked around. There were plenty of strange things in this room; uniforms, weapons and things he didn’t even recognize. 

The handler put a pile of black clothing on the bench. “Change.”

Bucky was glad to get out of the smelly, dirty clothing he was wearing. He scratched at his left shoulder absently. A smack on his hand made him stop. 

The handler looked disapproving. “You’ll break the skin.” 

Bucky stopped scratching and pulled on first the black sleeveless turtleneck and tactical pants and then the heavy vest. He wanted to know suddenly what the hell they were doing but he kept his mouth shut. The heavy combat boots finished the ensemble and he smiled a little. “How do I look?”

The handler softened for a moment. “Like a soldier. Now hush.” He tightened the buckles on Bucky’s vest, then snapped a leash to a ring in the vest that Bucky hadn’t even noticed. 

Before he had time to process the ramifications of the leash, five other men in uniform came in. Kusnetzov handed the leash over to a different agent who gave Bucky a cursory glance. “Come.”

Bucky immediately balked. “No! I can walk on my own!” The next thing he knew he was flat on his back, face throbbing from the hit and the inside of his mouth bleeding. Tears stung his eyes but he quickly blinked them away. 

“Get up,” the agent snarled, yanking on the leash. 

Bucky scrambled to his feet, casting a pleading glance at his handler. There was no sympathy or help there. Just a disapproving frown.

“Soldier! Vasily is your handler in the field. Don’t be difficult.” 

Bucky lowered his eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry sir.” He obediently followed the uniformed agents outside, blinking in the bright sunlight. He looked around. He had no idea where he was. Probably still in Austria somewhere. He wasn’t going to ask! His cheek felt tight under the bruise that was forming.

He was put into the back of a vehicle and Vasily sat beside him, stern and unbending. He gave Bucky a sniper rifle. “You have a target that needs to be eliminated. In the field your leash will be removed. Once the target is down, you will be leashed again.”

Bucky heaved a sigh. “Yes Sir.” He was still uncertain as to why he was leashed at all! He thought it was probably a control thing. Hydra liked control. 

The vehicle slowed as they came to the spot where Bucky would make his shot. 

Vasily shoved him out of the vehicle and unsnapped the leash. “You lay down here! You make your shot. Then you wait for me.”

Bucky nodded and promptly fell to his knees and lay on his stomach, adjusting his aim to pick up where he was to hit the target. 

A few moments later, he was left alone. He entertained the idea again of running. He was pretty sure that his handler wasn’t far however. He turned his head a bit but saw no one else. He wanted so badly to go home to mama and papa and his sisters. He wanted to bury his face in mama’s shoulder and cry over Steve. He missed his friend horribly. He was kind of glad he hadn’t had a whole lot of time to think about it. 

Captain America. He’d been eager to hear the whole story but they hadn’t had a chance. All he knew was that Steve had given himself over to a science experiment. 

Bucky wiped a few errant tears off his cheeks and gasped at the tenderness on his bruised one. He really wished they wouldn’t hit him in the face! 

He’d been laying there several hours with no interruption other than a few mosquitoes and still no target. He wiggled a bit to stretch his back and legs. He had to pee but he ignored the twinges. 

Finally, he saw the target and raised his gun. He lowered it again in confusion. They wanted him to kill a lady?? What had she ever done? He frowned. No. He wanted to know why. A shot exploded to his left and he jumped and then whimpered when he saw the target fall. 

Vasily came towards him, face red with anger. 

Bucky jumped up and started to run. His heart pounded so incredibly hard. Damndamndamn!!! He was in so much trouble!! 

He had just thought maybe he could get away when he was tackled from behind and thrown down. 

It wasn’t Vasily who’d caught up to him. It was a different agent. He was yanked to his feet by a strong hand. 

Vasily no longer looked angry, he looked downright pissed! 

Bucky’s stomach hurt with anxiety. His face still ached from the earlier punch. 

Without a word, Vasily snapped the leash onto his vest and yanked him towards the vehicle. 

The ride back was unnervingly quiet. Bucky’s thoughts were running wild. He wasn’t so naive to think he wouldn’t be punished. He squirmed a little as he realized he still needed to use the bathroom. He didn’t dare ask. 

The vehicle was parked back at the Hydra base and Bucky was led silently to a room. He could see someone he’d never seen before through the small window in the door; waiting for him. Kusnetzov was there as well. 

Bucky felt the tension and wished he hadn’t messed up. Fuck. 

Vasily finally spoke. “You’re going to see Director Mikhailov.” He gave Bucky a disgusted look and pushed him roughly forward. 

His handler took the leash from Vasily and pulled him into the room. 

“Mission report.” The man in the expensive clothing gave him a piercing look. This must be Mikhailov. The head of Hydra. 

Bucky thought perhaps honesty would save him. He quickly gave the rundown of what had happened and then asked why they’d wanted to kill the target. 

Kusnetzov swatted the back of his head firmly. “It is not your place to ask,” he barked. “It is your place to obey.”

Bucky fidgeted a little. “I’m sorry sir. May I use the bathroom?” The need was getting heavier and he didn’t want any more humiliation. 

Kusnetzov looked at the other man. “Sir?”

Mikhailov shook his head. “No. Strip him, wash him and put him in the chair.”

Bucky cringed but didn’t argue. He hated that stupid chair! He wondered if they meant to make him piss his pants? 

Kusnetzov quickly undressed him and pointed him to a smaller room that looked like a shower room. 

He wished he could cover himself. Maybe he could take a quick pee in the shower. Of course, the handler would see. 

Bucky forgot all about peeing in the shower when the ice cold water struck his bare skin. He cried out and Kusnetzov made a face. “You are soft, boy. Didn’t the army teach you anything?”

The cold shower ended abruptly and he was roughly wiped down with a towel. 

His handler handed him a pair of cotton pants. “Put these on.” 

Bucky pulled them into place. “Sir,” he said hesitantly. “May I please go to the bathroom?”

Kusnetzov looked slightly sympathetic but shook his head. “The Director is waiting.”

Bucky followed his handler to yet a different room. This was not the chair.... He desperately wished for the other chair. This one was hooked up to something and it looked nasty. 

“Sit,” Kusnetzov commanded. 

Bucky sat gingerly glancing around nervously. He was pushed back and the now familiar restraints bound him to the device. He caught his breath as a metal band descended and was clamped around his head. 

A metal plate clamped tightly under his left eye over the cheekbone. His anxiety was making his bladder press hard. He tensed his abdominal muscles. He would not humiliate himself further! 

Mikhailov stood in front of him without really seeing him. 

Once again Bucky thought of the fact that he was no one here to this Director; to Hydra. He couldn’t cry now. Not in front of this man. 

“Turn it on,” Mikhailov ordered. 

There were three other technicians in the room. One tested the metal bonds on his arms and legs, one checked the positioning of the band on his head and tapped his cheek. “Open.” 

Bucky felt a rubber mouth guard being forced in between his teeth. He wasn’t just nervous any longer. He was scared!! 

He searched the room for Kusnetzov but the handler had disappeared. 

The last tech pushed a button. 

Bucky didn’t know if he had ever experienced such white hot lightning pain before. His whole head felt like it was going to explode. He screamed in pain and agony, tears running down his cheeks. His jaw had locked at the first jolt of pain and he understood why they had put a mouth guard in. 

The pain stabbed into his skull again and again transferring to the rest of his body and making his fingers and toes clench and stiffen with the current cutting through him. 

Eventually the sharp pain gave way to a grey haze. He wasn’t sure when the pain stopped or if it had. His body was on fire with it, every nerve ending crackling and burning. He couldn’t form a thought. 

Firm hands pulled him up and lay him on a table. He wished they wouldn’t touch him. Everything hurt so much. 

He thought minutes passed but perhaps it was hours. His vision was returning and he could see white lab coats all around him. 

“Sir, the soldier lost bladder control,” one of the people in a white coat said. 

He wanted to twist his head and see which soldier they were talking about. Poor guy. Soldiers were people too and sometimes accidents happened. It was humiliating though.

”Change his clothes and put him in his cell.” The voice was strident and the order was quickly obeyed. 

When his pants were removed, he felt a sort of odd wonder. He was the soldier who’d pissed himself? Odd. He didn’t know if that had happened before. He knew he was a soldier. 

“Soldat,” a voice said, this one gentler than the last. 

He looked up into the face of a man with a heavy Russian accent. 

“I am your handler. Do you know who you are?” The man was looking at him keenly.

The Soldier was dressed again and he slowly sat up, the glaring pain having given way to little bursts of fire instead. Did he know who he was... 

He considered the question at length. He should know. Somehow he should know who he was, but the information wasn’t readily available. 

He thought hard, trying to work through the haze and the headache. 

His mind finally settled on a name and he thought that must be the answer. “Steve.”

His handler smiled. “No. You are the Asset.”

The soldier nodded. Asset. He was useful. He liked being useful. 

His handler put him in his cell. He sat on his bed still pondering the vague emptiness in his mind. 

He was a soldier and Asset. He didn’t have a name? Maybe he did but he couldn’t think of it. The thought didn’t frighten him. He just thought it strange. Perhaps.... He looked at his left arm. Perhaps he wasn’t human. Weapons did not need names.

As he let these thoughts cascade over him, one caught his attention. The name he had thought of; it brought feelings of safety and happiness. He couldn’t have said why. Perhaps Steve was someone he trusted? Was Steve his handler? No. Steve was not a Russian name. Maybe his name was Steve and they had just said it wasn’t. That didn’t make sense either. 

Yet, if he wasn’t Steve, and his handler wasn’t Steve, _who_ _was_? 


	4. Chapter 4

The soldier finally slept when his mind had exhausted itself of questions without answers. He woke once during the night, feeling the pain of his skin on the mat. He grunted and rolled over, trying to get comfortable. He twitched his hips involuntarily when his body responded to his movements on the mat. 

He stopped moving, wondering what was happening. He felt the hardness between his legs and thought he remembered something about that but the memory wouldn’t come so he tried to ignore it. 

When he woke in the morning, Bucky knew who he was. Or at least mostly. He had the vaguest feeling that he was missing some vital information. He couldn’t remember where exactly he was. He studied the metal prosthetic, looking at the way it moved. Falling.... Maybe. He couldn’t....remember! Why was he having such a hard time putting the pieces together?

He stood up and stretched, looking in some concern at his case of morning wood tenting the front of his pants. Something seemed weird about it. Like he didn’t quite know what to do with it, and yet he should. His brain felt fizzy this morning like a soda that had been violently shaken. He sat down again, thumbing his erection curiously through his pants. The immediate shock of arousal rocketed through him and he smiled. It felt nice. He did it again, rubbing a little along his shaft. Oh...! His mind started to fill with pictures of blonde downy hair and tangled bodies. He shuddered a little, gripping his dick.

A man dressed in a black tactical uniform unlocked his cell door. “Enough! Don’t!”

Bucky jerked his hand away, staring at the agent in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. The mental images didn’t immediately fade. Maybe that’s why it had felt odd. It was a no no. He tried to squelch his body’s desire to continue. 

“Good morning Soldat.” The Agent jerked him to his feet. “Its time to go see Kosnitzev.” 

Bucky frowned a little. Who was Kosnitzev? He wouldn’t ask though. Guilt made his ears burn. Would this man tell the other what he’d been doing? He tried desperately to still the arousal that was making it uncomfortable to walk. He followed the black clad agent to what appeared to be a kitchen. The Russian waited for him, a slight smile of greeting on his lips. “Good morning, Soldat.” His eyes fell to the soldier’s crotch but he said nothing.

Bucky nodded in greeting. He knew that Soldat meant soldier in Russian and he was eager to please this man, hoping to avoid punishment. Kosnitzev, he thought to himself. “Are you my commander?” He asked softly. 

Kosnitzev shook his head. “I am your handler. Today you will begin training.” 

Bucky took the cup of thick green liquid that the handler gave him. His stomach felt tender this morning but he didn’t know why. He sipped the drink, finding the taste somewhat bland. He finished it, and turned back to his handler.

Kosnitzev put a piece of pancake to his mouth. “Here.”

Bucky ate it, licking a stray drop of syrup off his lip. He nodded. “Tastes good!”

He was fed several more bites and then his handler abruptly got up. “That’s enough now.” 

Bucky was okay with that. His stomach felt overly full and he belched. His belly was tender and hurt when he put a hand over the nausea, hoping to stem it. At least the hardness in his dick had settled down!

Kosnitzev gave him a hard look. “Are you ill?” 

Bucky wasn’t sure. “I think I ate too much. My stomach hurts.” 

His handler rolled his eyes. “Next time stop before it gets to be too much. The training course will help.”

The training course didn’t help. Bucky wasn’t out of shape but every one of his muscles felt like it had been stretched to the limit and snapped back. He was sluggish on the course. 

Vasily was also watching and pretty soon a whip snapped across his back. “Faster!” 

Bucky tried to obey but suddenly his sore stomach had enough. He stumbled to the side of the chin up bar and vomited. Excruciating pain ripped through his stomach. He gasped, then threw up again. 

Vasily was shouting orders for a clean up team to get into the gym while Kosnitzev took Bucky aside and gave him a drink of water. “Lesson learned, boy.” His voice was somewhat gentle but still firm. “Next time, don’t eat so much.”

Bucky did feel better after and was put though the endurance testing until he couldn’t move his legs anymore. When he’d stumbled the fourth time, Vasily commanded him taken to the showers and cleaned up then brought to Zola. “He’s not happy with him.”

Bucky looked wide eyed at the field handler. What had he done to upset Dr. Zola? He couldn’t remember! Anxiety clenched his already sore muscles and he huffed in pain. 

Kosnitzev led him to the shower and pointed at the toilet. “Relieve yourself and then get in the shower.” 

Bucky was about to tell him he didn’t have to but thought better of talking back. He would try. He did as told, sitting for several minutes before Kosnitzev beckoned him up. He was so grateful when the shower wasn’t ice cold. He was washed thoroughly by the handler and his hand was slapped firmly when he tried to cover his genitals. Bucky stomped down the urge to cry. He could not cry! He let himself feel angry instead. Anger at Zola’s stupid orders gave him an edge. He stood proudly, letting Kosnitzev dry him off. 

The handler smiled a little. “Lucky for you, I like women and not men. You are a beauty and there are some who won’t hesitate to use you.”

Bucky immediately shrank a little. The words made him feel dirty and used. Would Hydra sink to such depravity? 

Kosnitzev gave him fresh cotton pants and then urged him quickly down the corridor to the room where the Swiss scientist was preparing to do more of his experiments. 

Zola was waiting impatiently for them. “I haf been waiting fifteen minutes, Kosnitzev! What took so long?” He waved at two coated lab techs. “Put him in ze chair.”

The handler apologized profusely. “He needed cleaning, sir. As according to your orders. They have been followed.” 

Zola dismissed the handler. “We will not need you again today.”

Bucky was strapped into the chair without the machine and he was grateful. He vaguely remembered the pain and realized his muscle pain was from whatever they’d done to him. His anxiety returned however when Kosnitzev gave him a sad look before leaving. What was happening? He flinched when a needle was pushed into his right arm. He felt anger build again. What were they putting inside of him?

Zola looked at him, unblinking behind the hornrimmed glasses. “Tell me, what is your name?” 

Bucky frowned a little. It seemed like a trick question but he couldn’t think why. “James Buchanan Barnes,” He said hesitantly.

Pain exploded on the left side of his face and he felt himself drifting towards unconsciousness. Bursts of pain echoed in his skull. He was kicking himself for being so stupid. It was a trick question. He had not answered correctly. He tried to breathe through the sharp ache in his skull. 

Zola grabbed his chin and looked at him. “You are ze Asset! Nossing else! Understood?”

Bucky tried to nod. That was the right answer. Asset. Asset. Nothing else. He had to remember that! 

Zola gave a disgusted wave of his hand. “Prepare him. Mikhailov sinks he might be more susceptible to ze treatment after a few months.”

Bucky was about to ask a question but he didn’t get a chance. He was lifted onto a table, stripped quickly and efficiently and restrained.

He grunted in pain and hissed a breath out as he felt a catheter slide into his dick. His skin was all so sensitive. The tech handling him wasn’t being exactly gentle and to Bucky’s horror and embarrassment, he started to chub up. Oh no! Not again! Bad! Bad! He willed the erection to subside. 

“Doctor,” the tech said. “His body is responding to me.” 

Zola made an impatient motion. “Take care of it! He must be clean and void to go into ze tank.” 

Bucky was trying to make sense of the conversation. His ears were still ringing from the hit to his head. He wondered why the catheter was being withdrawn, then squeaked with indignation when he started getting jerked off. It felt good but he wasn’t supposed to feel this! He twisted in his bonds, protesting until a gag was put in his mouth. Tears ran from his eyes. It didn’t take long for him to cum. The gag was removed and the techs continued as if nothing had happened.

He shuddered, feeling empty and weak after the impersonal touching. That had been very unsatisfying and Bucky didn’t want it to happen again! 

The catheter was put back in and he grimaced at the feeling of wetness spreading under him when the catheter breached his bladder. He wished he could have just used the toilet. Humiliation tinged his cheeks and ears red. 

The enema was worse. He gritted his teeth at the fullness looking with pleading eyes at the stoic, blank faced people around him. He was nothing. His stomach cramped painfully and then they forced his body to release the water. It was done. He sighed with relief. 

A needle was once more poked into him and he winced. “Ouch!” 

Bucky was wondering what they were preparing him for when he was lifted,naked, into what appeared to be a tube of some sort. Were they administering more serum? When the lid closed he started to panic. He yelled and pleaded to be let out. He didn’t really like tight dark places. This must be the punishment for him touching himself. He wished they had given him the dignity of having at least pants on.

The injection must have had something in it to make him sleepy. His body felt light and dizzy. A sudden chill spread over him and goose bumps raised on his bare flesh. It was an odd combination with the half floating feeling of what must have been a sedative. He reached for the small square window. “Kosnitzev!” He pleaded, trying to see through the condensation building on the glass. 

He was half dreaming of pleasant things. He felt prickly but not enough to really be uncomfortable. The cold quickly became more intense and Bucky’s body shivered uncontrollably for only a few moments and then his world went dark. 

Zola nodded. “Put the cryo tank in the sterile lab. We will come back to him in six months or so.” 

The techs rolled the tank away, putting it in a darkened place to let the soldier sleep. 

Kosnitzev sighed. He wasn’t sure if he’d still be here when he awoke. Kosnitzev was not a young man anymore. They had assigned him to the young soldier because he was firm and yet sympathetic. He had needed guidance. They hadn’t really given him enough time. Zola had always been impatient. 

He turned away, sadness pulling like gravity at the corner of his eyes. It was no longer his concern. The soldier would learn his lessons. There was no other option.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky was only aware of cold. He was so so cold! His first vague thought was that it was winter and somehow he had gotten trapped on the street. It wasn’t windy however. So he was thankful. 

He had to get somewhere warmer before he froze. Instinctively he tried to move but his body wouldn’t respond. He started to panic. Were his legs frozen? Why couldn’t he move??

A sudden warmth on his face distracted his racing thoughts. Ohhhh, that felt nice. He was able to turn his face towards the heat a little. He felt stiff but not in pain which was odd. 

Slowly the warmth on his face started to penetrate the rest of him. He expected to feel the painful prickling as his limbs came to life but it wasn’t too bad. The warmth helped. 

He struggled and slowly opened his eyes, then immediately wished he hadn’t. A white hot light seared into his eyeballs, making them ache and burn. He made a soft sound of distress and the light was turned away. 

The black spots in front of his eyes slowly dispersed. He tried to see where he was. He got the distinct sudden impression that he was naked. He didn’t like it. He still couldn’t move his limbs. As the warmth continued to work it’s way through him, other things became clear. 

He was laying down on a table. His eyelashes were full of water droplets and he blinked to clear his eyes. Someone wiped his face with a towel and then his eyes were forced open and he felt drops of some sort being put in. It eased the pain immediately and he relaxed. 

He became aware then that his body was starting to feel like his own again. He turned his head to see an IV bag attached to his arm. That would account for the pain in his forearm. 

He started to shiver in increments. His body desperately wanted to be warm. He saw the heat lamps and was glad for their warmth even as his teeth chattered involuntarily. 

He became aware of murmured conversation going on around him. The empty IV bag was exchanged for a full one. He could wiggle his extremities now and the shivering had given way to a delicious warmth that curled around him like a warm scarf. 

His eyes finally focused enough to tell that it was several lab techs working around him. 

Underneath the warmth, there was a soft urgency that he couldn’t place. His body was trying to tell him something but he was having problems trying to put it into a solid thought. 

He ignored it until a sharper pang ran through his abdomen. Oh.... he looked at the IV bag and saw the second one was half empty. He tried to speak but his voice was hoarse. 

The techs didn’t stop what they were doing. 

Bucky felt the need get worse very quickly. “Bathroom,” he croaked urgently. 

One of the techs paused. “Towel.”

Bucky felt himself rolled to one side and a thick towel placed under him. 

He tried to hold his bladder. Wasn’t anyone going to take him? He squirmed slightly, his body still sluggish. 

Without any further warning, his bladder gave out. He grimaced at the feeling of warm piss running down his thighs and ass cheeks and soaking into the towel. He whimpered a little. 

“The Asset emptied his bladder,” one of the techs said in a clinical tone. 

Someone else removed the wet towel and placed a dry one under him. He was wiped down and then half covered with a warm towel. 

“What do we have left to do?” 

Bucky looked curiously at the tech. It seemed like they were performing a procedure. He wanted to ask but his throat hurt. 

“Have to get the feeding tube in.” The tech who answered tossed a wrapped plastic tube on the table. “His formula is warm enough and ready to go.”

With no warning, the plastic tube was put into his right nostril. Bucky tried to fight, at that point noticing his arms were restrained. He started gagging and choking, tears running down the sides of his face. He was held down until it was in. 

Once he could breathe again he settled down. A bag of pale yellow sludge was attached to the tube and started flowing into his stomach.

A new face entered his range of vision. He looked at the man above him. Blonde hair, glasses, broad shoulders under an expensive suit. This wasn’t ....he tried to think. The small Swiss doctor. Zola. This wasn’t Zola. 

“Baron Von Strucker,” one of the techs said respectfully. “The Asset is almost ready.” 

“Good.” The voice was smooth like expensive wine. 

“Do you want us to dress him?” The question seemed odd to Bucky. Would they leave him naked? 

“Just pants. We’ll see if he needs a treatment.” The Baron watched Bucky with cool eyes, only slightly interested in the procedure. 

Another bag of formula was attached to the tube, this one a rather awful brownish colour. 

Bucky started squirming again. He grabbed the tech closest to him and pointed to his abdomen giving a pleading look at him. 

“If you need to go, then go,” The man said a little impatiently.

Bucky frowned and tried to lay still. He needed to use the bathroom. 

Finally, the tube was pulled out, and he was allowed to sit up. 

“Can I please use the bathroom?” He asked, his voice still hoarse. 

Strucker narrowed his eyes. “That’s something we need to work on. Yeah, take him.”

The tech that took him to the bathroom was impatient. “Hurry up.”

Bucky did his best to hurry. He was feeling very heavy like his body was full of lead. 

When he was done, the technician slapped his hands away and cleaned him. “You don’t touch yourself without permission. Got that??”

Bucky nodded, fighting the dizziness that swirled up. 

The Baron was sitting in his large leather office chair when Bucky was brought to him. “Is he good now?”

The tech nodded. “Urine and bowel movement, he’s had two bags of formula and two bags of fluid. He may need a few hours to be fully functional but procedure is complete.”

Strucker dismissed the tech and stared at Bucky for a long while. “Do you know what year it is?”

Bucky thought that was a silly question. They’d put him to sleep yesterday. “1943 Sir.”

Strucker chuckled. “They let you sleep longer than the original plan. Zola isn’t here anymore.”

Bucky was glad. Zola had done this to him! Maybe he could be set free. 

“It’s 1949,” Strucker said. 

Bucky frowned. How had six years gone by in only one night? He was so confused! “I don’t understand,” he said. 

“You don’t need to,” Strucker answered. “Your job is to be obedient. To follow orders.”

Bucky nodded a little. “Yes sir.”

Strucker gave him a long, probing look. “You have a mission.”

Bucky suddenly remembered the woman that he’d decided not to kill. “Who is it?” 

“That’s not knowledge you need. You go out, you take them out, you come back. Understood?” A picture slid across the polished desk towards him. 

Bucky picked it up. There was a man with a woman and a little girl. He studied the picture, looking at Strucker warily. “The man?”

The baron nodded, watching him. 

Bucky scowled. “What did he do?”

Baron Von Strucker’s face hardened. “It doesn’t matter. Your mission is to kill him.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. It had grown in the last six years. “He has a wife and child.”

Without further conversation, Strucker took Bucky back to the lab. “Wipe him.”

Bucky panicked when he saw the chair. “No! No! I’m sorry! Please not this chair! Please!”

The lab techs ignored his screams and strapped him into the dreaded chair. 

A moment later Bucky forgot everything in trying to survive the intense electric current firing through his brain. He screamed and cried until the pain stopped and then sat there completely dazed. 

The Baron came closer. “Asset.”

Bucky vaguely looked in his direction, his muscles still twitching from the current. 

“You have a mission,” Strucker said firmly.

The soldier nodded in acknowledgement. “Mission plan, Sir?”

Strucker shoved the picture in front of him. “This man, he needs to be taken care of.” 

The Asset nodded. 

Vasily was pushed forward. “Prepare him.”

The handler took the soldier to a different room and gave him a small pile of heavy tactical gear. “Get dressed.”

Bucky looked at the clothes for several long minutes trying to make his brain work. Dress. Dress. Oh yes. He methodically lifted one leg and then the other to put on the pants. The shirt came easier. He put the vest on and frowned at the buckles. His finger tips still buzzed from the treatment and he couldn’t make them work. 

Vasily made an impatient sound and buckled the vest snugly. A mask and goggles completed his outfit and then he was given a high powered sniper rifle. Two smaller guns were put into the holsters at his hips and several small silver bombs were placed in his vest pockets. 

“Let’s go,” Vasily said, leashing him. 

The soldier frowned thoughtfully. “Kosnitzev?” 

Vasily paused a moment then turned to the soldier, a softening around his mouth. “Kosnitzev is gone.”

The Asset felt a pain in his chest akin to sadness. Kosnitzev had treated him well. From what he remembered. 

He looked once more at the picture and stood silent, waiting. “Mission.”

Vasily pointed to the open door. “Good boy. Let’s go.”

The soldier walked forward, his boots echoing on the concrete floor. He had a mission. That was all that mattered. 


	6. Chapter 6

The soldier was taken to the place where he would wait. His heavy vest was already causing him to sweat. Vasily had added a black muzzle to his gear that was firmly buckled around his head. 

He thought it must be to shield his face from any curiosity. It would also ensure his silence. 

The handler held his leash firmly. He started to speak in a low, strong voice the Russian words that had been implanted.

Longing.

Rusted.

Furnace. 

The Asset became still, looking at Vasily with a blank look. 

Vasily pointed out the place where the target would emerge. “One shot to the head. Understood?”

The Asset nodded. 

Vasily looked satisfied. “Good. Find your vantage point.”

The soldier climbed the squat oak tree and made himself comfortable in the ‘v’ of two thick branches. The leaves shielded him from the heat of the sun and from any curious eyes. 

Vasily nodded. “When the target has been acquired, you wait here.”

The soldier nodded again, settling himself in to wait.

The morning passed in relative quiet. Every now and then someone would emerge from the door to the laundromat but it wasn’t the target. He shook his head to dislodge a mosquito stuck in his hair. The insect whined around his ear trying to get to his flesh. He lifted one hand and smacked the pesky mosquito. 

He drank from the water canteen at his side periodically. The water helped cool him but pretty soon he realized it was also going to do other things too. His bladder twinged but he staidly ignored it. He had not been given permission to void.

The water squelched his hunger somewhat as well, so he went between taking a few sips to stop the grumbling in his belly and regretting it when his bladder would press its need on him. He wanted to fidget but knew that was a good way to attract attention. 

After several hours, he started to feel the need to void desperately. He scowled behind the muzzle. Surely the target would show soon. He rolled his hips slightly, to still the urge. 

The soldier thought of the blurry images in his head while he waited. He was aware that somehow, he had fallen asleep and six years had passed but he had no recollection of why six years had passed. Perhaps it was a time glitch or magic. Maybe a sweet blonde prince in red, white and blue had taken him away from Hydra. He scoffed a little at his fanciful thoughts. A blonde man had been in his dreams however. He thought hard for a moment then got fully distracted when his bladder gave a good hard pang. 

He grunted a little, twisting his hips to put pressure on his crotch to keep himself from losing control. He decided not to drink any more water. 

He was getting uncomfortable and fidgeting every few seconds. His handler would be angry. 

The soldier didn’t know what to do. He tried to hold still. The need became so strong he moved one hand down between his thighs. He couldn’t leave his nest. His body suddenly decided for him and he squirmed as pee soaked into his underwear and tac pants. His face grew hot with embarrassment behind the muzzle. It was a relief but he was so embarrassed for a few minutes. 

Where was the target?? He knew better than to become impatient though. He’d been here so long, his elbows were numb from the way he was leaning on the tree trunk. His wet pants slowly dried and he itched unbearably. He drank his water again to distract himself. 

Finally after nine hours of waiting, the target finally appeared. The soldier had wet himself again about half an hour ago, unable to hold his bladder after emptying his canteen a few hours ago. 

His focus snapped to the man coming out of the door. He raised the rifle and took careful aim. This was his mission. Nothing else mattered except making the Baron and Vasily happy. He pulled the trigger and fired, watching the target fall. At last!

His urge to comply eased. He grimaced at his wet pants and scrambled out of the tree to wait. His legs felt rashy from the urine soaked pants pressing against them for six hours. He waited anxiously for his handler.

Bucky slowly felt his mind complete his thoughts again. He was himself. He knew he had killed someone. He knew that it had been an order. He didn’t like how it had felt like he had no choice however! 

It was about half an hour later that Vasily showed up, his face serene. “Good work, soldier.” 

Bucky was silent behind the muzzle. 

Vasily eyed his wet pants. “Couldn’t hold it?” He asked with a smirk. 

The soldier blushed and shook his head.

Vasily put him in the vehicle. “Once we get back to the compound I’ll change you. You earned it.”

Bucky kept his head down. Humiliation crawled into his thoughts like a dark fog. He didn’t like smelling like piss. He didn’t want to be made to wear wet pants! They had made him do it. 

At the base, the muzzle was removed and he was taken to the showers.

As he undressed in the presence of a junior agent who had been given orders to wash him, Bucky silently folded the dirty uniform and waited for permission to step under the water. 

The young agent made a face. “Can’t believe you pissed yourself!” 

“I had no choice,” Bucky said softly in defence.

The agent shrugged and made a face. “That’s probably a side effect of the chair.”

What chair? Bucky wondered silently. He didn’t remember a chair that would take away such a thing as bladder control! He would not be forced back into such a chair! They could not control that part of him! It was his body.

He blushed again as the agent washed him per Strucker’s orders. He hated that Hydra wanted to control his every move. He had to fight!

He had to. 


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky was given dinner in the base kitchen.

He watched hungrily as Vasily made him a protein shake and made some pasta. 

“You cannot have other food,” Vasily said sternly. “You threw up earlier.”

Bucky thought that was highly unfair. They had subjected him to torture and then fed him a heavy breakfast and then made him exercise! He considered pointing this out but his cheekbone remembered how hard Vasily could hit. “Sir?” He said softly. “I’m so hungry.”

Vasily’s face softened a bit. He knew the young soldier hadn’t been fed a midday meal and he himself was hungry even though he’d had sandwiches. He gave him the shake. 

Bucky drank it down like a starving man. It hardly filled the hollow in his stomach. 

He pointed at the pasta. “Please?” He pleaded.

Vasily gave him a disgruntled look. “What happens when you throw it up again? Strucker is giving you special treatment and food to condition your body very specifically for fighting.”

Bucky’s eyes filled with tears but he nodded and stopped talking, watching his handler eating. 

Vasily glanced at him and sighed. “Damn your sad eyes! Here.” He offered a fork of pasta to Bucky.

The Asset eagerly took it, hardly chewing as he swallowed the mouthful.

Vasily held up a hand. “Slow down. You will make yourself sick.” 

Bucky didn’t care! “More?” He whispered eagerly. He was hungry! 

The handler frowned. “Drink your shake.”

Bucky pushed the empty cup towards him. 

Vasily picked the cup up. “You finished already? What am I supposed to do with you? You’ll have to hold your bladder now till I’m done.”

Bucky looked at him, wide eyed. Oh. He hadn’t thought about it. He’d already had to go a bit when they came in for dinner. The last vestiges of his canteen water, he supposed. He looked at the pile of pasta and meat on Vasily’s plate. He could wait.

Vasily ate slowly, savouring his dinner; and also to see how long the soldier would last. He knew the soldier had been wet when they got back but judging from the rash on his legs it had been a few hours. That meant that the shake would settle into the the soldier’s bladder fairly soon. Strucker wanted to up the soldier’s bladder capacity and the serum would make that possible, along with other things. If they could make him have a full bladder when administering the serum, according to Strucker, it would strengthen the muscles at that capacity. 

Bucky examined his metal arm. There was a scratch on it. He rubbed at it absently. It hadn’t actually gone deeper than the surface. The techs would buff it out. 

Vasily eyed the Asset. “You did good work today, Soldat.” 

Bucky smiled a bit. “Thank you, Sir.” 

Vasily finally finished his dinner then took Bucky to the lab.

Bucky fidgeted a little. “Sir, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Strucker has given instructions to give you scheduled bathroom breaks. Once in the morning, once at night, and once during the day if absolutely necessary.” Vasily didn’t look at the soldier. “He wants to increase your bladder strength.”

Bucky felt anxiety clamp his stomach uncomfortably. How the hell was he supposed to make his body stronger?

The techs brought out several syringes of blue serum and Bucky remembered the burning fiery fluid in his veins. “No,” he whispered. “Please don’t do that.” 

“Baron’s orders,” the tech said simply, pushing Bucky down on the table and restraining him. 

As they swabbed his flesh arm Bucky tried to struggle. “Let me go!!! I hate Strucker and Hydra!”

Vasily gave him a long look and Bucky cringed before falling silent. “Would you like to voice your opinion to Baron Von Strucker?” The handler asked, voice like steel. 

Bucky quickly shook his head. “No, Sir.”

Vasily smacked his face hard. “Be quiet now! You will not disrespect Baron Von Strucker.”

Bucky felt the inside of his stinging cheek with his tongue. He said nothing further. 

The first syringe went in. Bucky had forgotten just how painful it was. He cried out, writhing and clenching his bladder in an effort not to wet himself again. The second syringe was also painful. By the third, his body was on fire but he was still dry. He was relieved when the restraints came off. 

Vasily helped him up and took him to the bathroom. “You need to understand, soldat. You use the bathroom when we say you do.”

Bucky started towards the urinal but was harshly dragged back. He looked at Vasily, perplexed, a hand darting down to grasp himself. 

Vasily notes the desperate gesture. “Use the toilet. Now.” He pointed to the toilet. “You May empty your bowels and your bladder.”

“But-” Bucky began to protest. 

Vasily yanked his pants down and landed a hefty swat to his backside.

Bucky sat, ass cheek and pride stinging. He refused to look at Vasily. He didn’t have to go! He emptied his bladder. He knew, however, that he obviously wasn’t getting another potty break. He tried. He really did. He finally got up.

They silently headed towards Bucky’s cell where he would be put for the night. His stomach clenched anxiously. What now?? “What happens if...” He trailed off, cheeks burning and eyes downcast. 

Vasily let him stew for a minute. “You hold it. If you can’t, you face the consequences.”

Bucky felt the familiar tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as the hopelessness of his situation became clear. He had no way out. He would be punished for things he couldn’t help. There was nothing he could do to please these people enough to set him free. 

“Please kill me,” he begged softly as his handler put him in his cell. 

Vasily stopped the door, looking at the young soldier. A moment of sympathy overtook him even though he knew he was supposed to remain harsh. “I know Strucker is hard. Just do your best and I’ll try to help you when I can.”

Bucky lifted tear wet eyes slowly to Vasily’s face. “But that means you’ll get into trouble too.”

Vasily gave him a rare smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Now go to sleep. We have another mission tomorrow.”

Bucky crawled onto his lumpy mattress feeling slightly less alone. Vasily wasn’t friendly exactly but he’d extended a kindness. Bucky would do his best to make his handler happy. 

The next morning when Vasily took him to the bathroom after his morning shake, Bucky Was still dry and clean to his great relief, and then got into his tac gear. 

“The Baron is waiting,” Vasily said softly, tightening the buckles. 

Bucky nodded, following his handler down to the office. 

“Baron Von Strucker,” Vasily said respectfully to the blonde man behind the desk. 

Bucky stood, head bowed; silent. Weapons didn’t speak. 

“Has the Asset been informed of the mission,” Strucker asked.

Bucky thought his voice sounded a little like fresh honey, smooth and golden but very sticky. 

Vasily nodded. “He will be, Sir. He is debriefed on the transport.”

Strucker considered Bucky for a moment. “How has he taken to the muzzle?” 

“His obedience has increased as has his silence.” Vasily answered.

Strucker looked pleased. “Between the muzzle and the cryosleep he has been more compliant then.”

Vasily nodded again. “Yes Sir. He has.” 

“Good. Go complete your mission,” he said to Bucky.

The Asset nodded silently and followed his handler out of the room. He stood quiet while Vasily fastened the muzzle around his face. 

The soldier understood now. It wasn’t for his protection. It was for theirs. 


	8. Chapter 8

The soldier sat quietly on his perch, waiting. The muzzle was snug. His eyes watered but he didn’t move. His cheekbone was bruised under his left eye from Ivanov’s impatience with him. 

During transport, the young soldier had responded to a question in English. Ivanov had immediately hit him in the face with his meaty fist. “Speak Russian you spoiled brat or I will make sure you suffer!”

The Asset had quickly nodded looking to Vasily for help. 

“Da, Ser,” Vasily said to Ivanov, touching the soldier’s shoulder. 

Ivanov turned on the Asset and barked an order in the foreign language. 

Bucky immediately responded. “Da, Ser.” 

“Better,” Ivanov grumbled.

Vasily and the Asset has been instructed where to watch for the target. The soldier sat atop the stone wall, motionless, whole Vasily was below him, hidden behind a large gorse bush, watching to make sure the soldier did as told.

The handler thought it was a little strange to take an Irish American and try to make him Russian. But he could teach the young soldier some words. As they had walked to their hiding place, he gave the soldier his first words. 

“Da is yes,” Vasily smiled. 

Bucky nodded. He had figured that much. He stored it in his mind. Da. Yes. His stinging cheek would remind him.

“You already know Soldat,” Vasily continued. 

Bucky nodded again. Soldier. That one was easy. He patted his gun, giving his handler a questioning look. 

Vasily thought a moment. “Vintovka. Sniper rifle.”

Bucky liked that word. Vintovka. He couldn’t speak with the muzzle on but he had a good memory. 

Vasily took a deep breath and grasped the soldier’s arm. “It is time.”

Bucky looked at him, sighed, then nodded, head bowed. 

“Zhelaniye,”Vasily began. “Rzhavyy. Semnadtsat.”

Bucky sighed again, his hands curling into fists. These words he’d rather not know. 

“Rassvet ....Pech.” Vasily’s voice was firm but he was watching the soldier carefully. 

Bucky’s face relaxed. 

“Dobrokachestvennyy.” He could feel the soldier’s personality slip away as the words continued, turning him into the assassin that Hydra needed. 

When the words had all been said to the Asset he was blank eyed, compliant. He scaled the wall easily and sat in the cover of a large tree that was growing there. His only goal now was to do as he’d been told.

Vasily glanced up, marvelling inwardly at Strucker’s capability to make the soldier do his bidding. He knew it was the chair. The brainwashing was harsh and unforgiving.

The handler felt a moment of doubt over the pleading sadness the soldier had portrayed last night. Was Hydra doing him a gross injustice? Vasily wasn’t under any impression that Hydra was as pristine as they pretended to be. Evil lurked in its bowels. The soldier would bend to their desires. He had actually considered killing the soldier out of mercy but it would be better to set him free. 

He had often thought of leaving. As he’d found out more and more Hydra secrets he was less enamoured. Strucker was far worse than Zola had ever been. He knew the Baron intended to shape the Asset into a mindless killing machine. Maybe it was too late in the game to pull his cards and run. But maybe he could at least rescue the soldier. 

The loud report from the sniper’s rifle startled Vasily back to the present. The target was dead. 

The Asset dropped from his perch to stand in front of his handler, obediently waiting to be leashed.

Vasily only hesitated a moment before removing the muzzle. “James!” He whispered.

The soldier looked at him in confusion. “Sir?” 

“Go! Quickly! I’m setting you free.” He smiled and patted the young man’s shoulder. 

Bucky was so confused. He glanced at the leash then at Vasily’s face, finally starting to slowly walk away. It wasn’t right! He was going to be punished! 

He had only gone a short distance before a shout stopped him. “The soldier! Vasily!” 

Bucky turned back and started to run just as a gun fired and Vasily crumpled to the ground, bleeding profusely. “NOOO!” He yelled, running back to his handler. “What did you do?” He shrieked in horror. A moment later he tumbled backwards as Ivanov hit him viciously.

The agent took the leash from the dead man’s hand and coldly snapped it to the soldier’s vest. “He broke the rules. Forget Vasily.” He yanked the boy to his feet.

Bucky couldn’t stop the tears that leaked slowly down his face as he took a final glance back at the man that had shown him some kindness in the face of hopelessness. 

“Stop your blubbering!” Ivanov said harshly. 

Bucky tried. When he couldn’t stop quickly enough for Ivanov’s liking, he got a hefty punch to the gut. “I said stop!”

Bucky swallowed hard. He hurt so much! Physically, emotionally, mentally.

Back at the base, Bucky was taken to Strucker. He stood silently. 

“Where’s his muzzle?” The Baron asked mildly. 

“Vasily went rogue,” Ivanov said, tossing the muzzle angrily onto the director’s desk. 

Strucker sighed. “I had my suspicions about him. Alright. We’ll assign a new handler. For now though, let’s get the Asset debriefed.” 

“The chair, Sir?” Ivanov asked. 

Strucker gave a slight nod and dismissed him. He gave the Asset a long look. He could see the sadness in his face and knew they had to wipe Vasily’s memory away. 

Bucky sat quietly. His stomach still hurt from both the hit he’d taken and the painful sadness of seeing a good man die. 

Strucker came around his desk and squatted down in front of him. “Soldier. Tell me. Did you kill the pre confirmed target today?”

Bucky had already answered this before to Ivanov but he wasn’t stupid enough to sass the Baron. “Yes Sir. At 1:06 PM one shot was fired, entering the forehead and killing the target.”

Strucker watched him carefully. “And what happened immediately afterward?”

The soldier looked down for a moment then spoke. “Agent Vasily broke protocol and tried to endanger the Asset by setting him free.” He knew that he couldn’t speak of himself as a person to Strucker. He had to remember, he was of no consequence to this man. 

Strucker nodded, pleased with the answer. “What was your emotional response, Soldier?” 

Bucky paused only a moment. “The Asset was upset sir. The Asset had formed an emotional bond with Agent Vasily.” 

Strucker’s eyes narrowed. “Emotional attachment is not allowed. It blinds your focus.”

The soldier nodded silently. “Da Ser. I am sorry.”

Strucker turned to the young agent who had just come in. “Clean him up then bring him to the lab.”

The man jerked Bucky to his feet without warning, making him stumble and fall forward, earning a cuff to the back of the head. 

Bucky was silent as he roughly undressed the Asset and washed him down under the cold shower. It wasn’t comfortable but Bucky didn’t cry at the rough handling. He grunted a little when the agent grabbed his genitals to scrub them. Seven years ago, he would have made a snide remark. Now, he knew better. He was getting chilled. And he had to use the urinal. He didn’t ask though. 

When he was deemed clean enough, he was dried off just as roughly and dressed in a pair of pants. He rolled his hips slightly, knowing if he wasn’t allowed, he would wet himself in the chair. He wondered if they were going to put him in the cold again after the chair. He wanted to forget Vasily and he wanted to forget that he was Bucky. It was too hard to be both. He would rather just be an assassin. 

“Soldat!” Ivanov barked coming in. 

“Yes sir?” Bucky immediately asked. 

Ivanov slapped his face. 

Bucky looked at him a moment then realized his mistake. Of course. 

Ivanov said again, “Soldat!”

“Da Ser!” Bucky answered. 

Ivanov nodded. “Come.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He hadn’t been taken to the bathroom. He started to feel the heat of humiliation but there was a despair that led to other thoughts. He didn’t care if he wet his pants anymore. Let them deal with it. They didn’t want to let him go when he needed to then so be it. 

Bucky was led to the lab where the chair was. He looked at it, his eyes filling with tears. He didn’t say anything as they led him to there and pushed him into the restraints. He would just think about the desired emptiness that would come after the horrible pain was gone.

The band around his head caused pain on his bruises. 

The flashes began, viscous and living, running like hot lava through every nerve ending in his body. He screamed, his body convulsing and stiffening with every pulse. 

When Bucky’s voice had almost given out, the electricity finally stopped leaving burning nerve endings, trembling limbs and nothing else. 

He very slowly became aware that he was alive. He had limbs. He was uncomfortably wet. 

“Soldat,” a voice close to him said.

It distracted him from his physical dilemmas. He didn’t know whose voice it was. The man had blonde hair and glasses and was looking at him expectantly.

He was Soldat. Yes. He might not know many things at this moment but he was very certain of one thing. There was only one answer to that word. 

“Da Ser.”


	9. Chapter 9

Strucker looked at Ivanov. “Get the techs. We’re going to get him ready for cryo. I’m moving bases.” 

The techs quickly set things up and The Asset looked innocently at them as they washed him down completely and emptied him. He shivered a little but didn’t consider it of any consequence. When he saw the tank being brought in he looked at it curiously. A memory tugged at him that was half pleasant. The tank meant peace. He let the techs help him up on shaky limbs and entered the tank, leaning back his heavy head. The cold was uncomfortable but only for a few minutes. 

_**Siberia**_

The Asset was slowly brought to consciousness after several years of sleep. Strucker’s blonde locks had lightened somewhat with age. He stood at the table watching the frozen soldier being awakened.

He had been busy. He had moved his Hydra base to Siberia because Switzerland authorities had begun sniffing around for underhanded activity. Here, they were buried in a remote place where no one would find them. It had taken six years to construct the bunker and another two, to get rid of the old agents. 

Strucker had a plan and he needed people that were going to be on board with that. Other than Ivanov he didn’t think any of them had the strength of character to stay quiet about what he had planned. It all started with this man. 

“How long till he’s ready?” Strucker asked impatiently. 

The techs looked at him. “We can’t rush it. Otherwise things go wrong.”

Strucker conceded. “Fine. Tell me when he’s ready.”

The Asset slowly awoke, shivering violently. He tried to speak but he couldn’t. One of the techs cleared his throat of the built up fluid and he croaked out a small gasp. “Where am I?” He asked in broken Russian.

One tech answered impatiently. “Siberia. Baron Von Strucker needs your skills.”

The soldier nodded, laying back to allow his body time to recuperate. The Russian conversation swirled around him and he recognized certain words. He was Russian. So why was he in Siberia? Perhaps Baron Von Strucker had a mission for him. 

He tried to piece together the broken bits of his knowledge. He felt empty. Like someone had taken him and removed everything in his mind about who he was. 

The warmth of the towels was nice. He was still shivering and decided he didn’t like this part of the cryo process at all.

He grabbed weakly at a tech. “Bathroom,” he croaked in Russian.

The tech glanced at him. “Catheter,” he said to one of the others.

The soldier jerked as he was handled and a catheter was inserted. His bladder emptied and he felt better, relaxing again. As his body slowly became his own again, his mind seemed to awaken as well.

He was put in a chair to be fed and fought against the nose tube. The restraints were put on, however and he was given whatever it was through the tube into his stomach.

When the tube came out he coughed harshly. “Who am I?” He asked, his voice gravelly from disuse.

Instead of an answer, a blonde man entered the room. He studied the Asset as he pulled up a stool and sat in front of him. “You have a question?” He asked. 

The soldier wondered why he only understood some of the language when he was clearly a Soviet soldier. He got the gist of it. He didn’t know exactly who this man was but he looked dangerous. “Who am I?” He asked softly.

Strucker considered how to answer then finally said, “You are the first Winter Soldier. We are using your blood to make more.”

The soldier looked down at his flesh arm. That would be why they had been poking his arm repeatedly. 

“Do you want to know what year it is?” Strucker asked with a hint of humour. 

The soldier looked at him questioningly. 

Strucker smiled with all his teeth. “It’s 1958. The war is over. At least in the United States. You used to miss your buddy, Steve Rogers.” 

The Asset didn’t respond to the mocking tone but he was confused. “But...I am Russian.”

Strucker looked gleeful. “Yes. Yes you are.”

The Asset was left to try and puzzle it out on his own. Also the name the blonde man had said. Steve Rogers. He sat very still, thinking as hard as he could. “End of....end of...” The thought wouldn’t become complete. 

The soldier was taken to the bathroom by a tech without warning and commanded to use the toilet. When he didn’t immediately comply, he got a stun baton’s shock against his neck. Without meaning to, his bladder released. He was punched hard in the chest and pushed down onto the toilet. 

Whimpering softly, he quickly did as he was told. It didn’t stop the beating he received.

“Don’t ever make a mess on me again,” the tech said. “Your new handler will take it from here.” 

The soldier waited patiently in the chair he was put in, breathing through the pain. 

A few moments later, Strucker walked in with a young man who looked the soldier up and down. “He will learn. I will make him.”

Strucker’s smile was cold this time. “Soldier, this is your new handler, Feliks Vasily.”

The Asset focused immediately on the young man. Vasily....it sounded so familiar.

Strucker chuckled. “Look at him. He recognizes the name.” To the soldier, he said, “This is not the Vasily you knew. It is his son.”

The soldier gave a ghost of a smile. Vasily brought back memories of kindness. He was so fortunate. 

Feliks snapped his fingers. “Up!” 

The soldier looked at him in confusion. 

A stinging slap across the face made him blink. 

“You will learn to obey!” Feliks spat angrily. “Get up!” 

The Asset quickly obeyed, head bowed and panic coursing through him at his obvious faux pas. “I’m sorry, ser,” he whispered. 

“Why is his Russian so pathetic?” Feliks demanded. 

Strucker shrugged. “He’s just learning.” 

“I will not be as patient as my father was,” the young handler growled. 

Strucker grinned. “I look forward to seeing how he becomes more compliant.”

The soldier’s face still stung and he looked at his new handler. This was not Vasily. This was just another Hydra devil. He frowned. Somewhere deep inside his twisted mind, a faint memory of Steve Rogers managed to come through. “Till the end of the line.” The words were just a whisper. 

Feliks turned on him. “Be quiet, unless you are asked to speak!”

The soldier nodded but the handler couldn’t stop him from thinking. He thought about the words and he thought about Steve Rogers. Even though he wasn’t sure exactly who Steve was, Strucker said he was a buddy. It must mean something. For now, he’d hold onto that.


	10. Chapter 10

The soldier lay on his cot that night, staring at the concrete ceiling above him. 

His body no longer ached from the training. It had been two weeks since he’d been awakened and he was getting used to the rigorous schedule. 

However, his body was betraying him. His bladder was not stronger even though Strucker had said it would be. No matter how hard he tried, his bladder didn’t hold as long as it used to and he didn’t understand why! He would not soon forget the beating he’d received for wetting himself during his mealtime today. 

Feliks was not patient with him. 

He slowly thought back over the last two weeks. It had happened shortly after he’d been awakened, and even though his handler had punished him then it hadn’t been as severe. The techs had almost seemed to expect it at that time. They had told Feliks in quiet voices that something wasn’t quite right. 

In his cell the drain in the floor was useful and it was easier to stay dry. It had happened again, two days later, however, during training, when he desperately asked to use the washroom and was denied, that his bladder simply gave out a few minutes later. 

It wasn’t getting better! It confused the soldier. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell. He wanted to know what was wrong. It frightened him. 

He had wet himself several times and been duly punished. Feliks Vasily’s punishment was varied and painful. Beatings with a whip, chaining the Asset to a pole in his cell and leaving him there for hours, and more recently, he had started using the soldier for his own pleasure. The Asset didn’t enjoy it and Feliks obviously liked to hear him cry. 

Even though the soldier tried so hard, the wetting continued. He even tried to hide it but it was unsuccessful. 

The soldier lay, awake when he knew he should be resting, his mind filled with all the anxieties of his current situation. He had remembered his Vasily. The kind handler. He would not have acted like this towards the soldier. He knew Feliks was nothing like his father and Strucker seemed to encourage it. 

He let go of that thought to think again about Steve Rogers. The name had stuck with him. He had no basis for who it might be but he allowed his mind to breed a fantasy, careful to only indulge in it at night when he was left alone. 

Steve was his buddy. He wasn’t exactly sure what a buddy was. He gleaned information from what he’d seen of some of the techs or agents when they goofed around and laughed. They appeared to be buddies. 

He and Steve laughed in his fantasy. It seemed fun. He wasn’t allowed to show emotion when he was awake but at night the guards and his handler didn’t see him. It frightened him when he let himself feel at all. The force of his anger towards Feliks was strong and dark. It made him anxious and he squashed the feelings down quickly. He could not think such things! 

He had a mission tomorrow. Strucker was sending him out to get two people for the winter soldier program. 

He didn’t know how his blood would help make more winter soldiers or why Strucker needed them. He finally dozed off. 

The soldier was awakened early by a tech who frowned at his wet pants. “Again?” 

“Izvinyayus’,” The soldier said softly, apologizing. 

The tech sighed and gave him dry pants to change into. 

Feliks gave him his shake and watched as he drank it. “There will be no wet pants today, right Soldat?” 

The Asset shook his head. He had to try very hard today. Maybe if he could please Feliks he would be treated kinder. Maybe the angry feelings would go away. They were the hardest to keep at bay. 

He was sent out on his mission alone, with a tracker in his metal arm. He walked quickly and purposefully to the tracked all terrain vehicle and got inside. 

The driver waited till he was seated and then the vehicle crawled over the cold Siberian landscape to the Asset’s first location. 

He dropped to the ground and ran nimbly to the small brown house, not bothering to knock. He pushed the door open with his metal arm, stalking quietly through the house to the small bedroom at the back. The man in the bed was sitting up, looking warily at his bedroom door. He started in surprise when the soldier appeared. 

The Asset stood there a moment then said, “Come.” 

The man looked at him fearfully. He got up, quickly put on some clothes and stared at the soldier. 

“Come,” The Asset said again, more firmly. 

At the first hint of refusal, the soldier grabbed the man by the arm and yanked at him. “Strucker needs you.”

The man tried to pull away but the soldier was too strong. He hit him with his prosthetic then dragged the unconscious man to the vehicle. 

The next stop went better. The occupant of the house seemed to be expecting the soldier and came willingly. He wanted to be part of the project.

The soldier paused after putting the second man in the vehicle. “Wait.” He walked out of sight for a moment and relieved himself. That had been close! His underwear was damp. 

At least Feliks would not know this time. His pants would be dry by the time they got back.

Upon returning to the base, Strucker met them there. He received the two new projects eagerly. “Good work, Soldat. Now I need you for something more difficult.” He smiled a little as he held out the muzzle and a pair of dark goggles. 

The soldier buried his anger and all other emotions as he was given the order to retrieve the son of a political figure in Novosibirsk. His handler was going with him, however. This did not make the soldier happy. He knew what would happen when they were gone overnight alone.

Strucker gave some final instructions, then they were off. 

The ride was long to the bustling metropolis and political centre of Siberia. The Asset was becoming visibly uncomfortable. He fidgeted as more vehicles began to pass them and people became more prominent the closer they came. 

He didn’t like crowds. Blending in was not something he did well. Feliks had kindly (if you could call it that) given him bathroom breaks, so at least it wasn’t that.

The plan was to break into the politician’s home that evening and kidnap his son. The soldier would do this alone. Once he had the young man, he would return to his handler and they would go to the safe house overnight to leave in the early morning by a different means. Their vehicle would leave the city now to avoid detection. 

The soldier and his handler were dropped off at a mall under the pretence of being ‘shoppers’ and when they had successfully escaped unwanted attention, they doubled back to the safe house.

The day waned into evening and the soldier was calm. He had his mission. Behind the muzzle and the goggles, he was no one.

Vasily took him within a mile of the dwelling and the Asset silently approached. He knew that the security measures on the house were easily disabled.

He cut some wires with his knife and put it back in his pocket. Lifting the window carefully, he dropped inside on silent feet. He looked around, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. There were a few lights on. 

The boy he was after was in his bedroom while the politician and his wife were at a party. 

The soldier quickly navigated the house and found the correct bedroom. He paused at the threshold. 

The boy was young. Perhaps nineteen or so. His blonde hair was carefully combed and he was reading a magazine. His back was to the door as he lay on his bed. 

The asset’s eyes scanned the room. It looked like a teenagers room. A small radio played softly. A pin up girl poster was pasted on the wall. The bedding was dark green. He wondered what Strucker wanted with one so young. The blonde hair tugged hard at his memory and he frowned. Shaking his head in frustration he shut down his thoughts.

Without further speculation, he stepped forward and touched the boy’s shoulder. 

Terrified, the boy looked at him with wide blue eyes. “Wh-Who are you?” He stuttered. 

“The Winter Soldier,” he answered gruffly, his voice muffled by the muzzle. “Baron Von Strucker needs you.”

The boy frowned. “The Hydra Director? Why would he need me?”

The soldier didn’t know so he didn’t answer. “My dad doesn’t think Hydra is good. He doesn’t like Strucker.”

The Asset frowned. Without further negotiations he took the boy’s arm and they left. 

The boy protested slightly but the soldier said nothing further. 

They walked back to where Feliks waited. The handler looked over the young boy with something akin to greed in his eyes. 

Under cover of the moonless night they walked back to the safe house.

The Asset stood silent and still, waiting for Feliks to notice that his tac pants were wet. He had done well until the walk back. The chill and the long walk had worked against him. 

The handler was interrogating the boy. So the soldier waited. And waited. His legs itched but he made no sound behind the muzzle. 

Finally Feliks was satisfied that the boy did not know anything else and turned to the soldier. His sharp eyes picked up on the wetness and his mouth turned down into a scowl. “Even punishment doesn’t change your stubbornness?” He asked with a sneer. 

The soldier hung his head. It wasn’t that he was stubborn! But he dared not defend himself to Feliks Vasily. 

The boy was watching. “What did he do?” 

“Wet himself like a wee babe,” Feliks mocked. 

With a frown, the young man shrugged. “Why is that a big deal?!

Vasily rolled his eyes. “Stay out of it.” 

The Asset quivered when Feliks undressed him and pushed him onto the floor in the living room. 

“You know the punishment,” he said, with a hard laugh.

The soldier got on his knees and elbows obediently. 

“What are you doing to him?” The boy asked curiously. 

“First he’ll get strapped for wetting his pants and then I’m gonna use him because I can,” Feliks said. 

The boy looked at the handler’s gun on the table. He was unarmed! 

“Don’t touch him!” He yelled, startling both Vasily and the soldier. 

The handler’s face turned red and he started whipping the Asset with his belt. “Stay out of this! He’s not your concern!”

The young man ran over and tried to get between the soldier and the leather belt. 

In a fit of rage, Feliks started whipping the boy. 

The soldier stared in shock until the boy’s pain filled cries spurred him into action. He let loose the anger that had been building in him. With a feral growl, he launched himself at Feliks, grabbing him by the hair and wrapping his prosthetic around the handler’s neck. 

Feliks stopped struggling. “You cannot do this. Strucker will punish you.” 

“Hurt him!” The soldier gasped pointing at the boy. “No more!” He flexed the metal bicep hard until the handler’s body convulsed and was still. 

He dropped the body on the floor. “Go home.” 

The boy stared in disbelief. “You killed your handler!” 

The Asset nodded slightly. “Go home. I must go.”

The young man disappeared into the night.

The soldier got dressed and stepped outside, tossing a burning match into the house. He would go back to Strucker. He would take his punishment. He would not be under Feliks’ thumb anymore. 

////

Strucker was alerted at 2 am that the Asset was on the move. He tried calling the safe house and then he tried to use the two way to get ahold of the vehicle. When neither answered, he got his own vehicle and started out. 

He did not want to lose the Asset. He’d trusted Feliks to keep a grip on him. He knew the younger Vasily had his depravities but he chose not to look at them. 

Some hours later, he found the lone figure, walking methodically back to base. Even though it would have taken several days. 

Strucker pulled the soldier into his vehicle and gave him a mug of hot coffee. 

The man drank gratefully, his teeth chattering. 

Strucker studied him. “Did you complete the mission?” 

The soldier nodded. 

“Where is the subject?” 

“I let him go.” The voice was calm, matter of fact.

“Where is your handler?” The baron asked.

Again the soldier didn’t hesitate. “He’s dead.”

Strucker looked at him in alarm. “Dead? How?”

The Asset was not remorseful. “I killed him.”

Strucker settled back, looking at the soldier. He would need to be wiped. He had made decisions on his own which was against protocol. 

He really hoped the project would work! He could use more assassins like this one. Even if they occasionally made trouble. 


	11. Chapter 11

To Strucker’s dismay, the use of the soldier’s blood did not work. 

During training, the winter soldier killed two of them immediately without even trying and the third that Strucker had found himself, he dispatched with the chair, not purposely, but it did the job, regardless. “I need the serum,” he told Mikhail, his next in command.   
  
Mikhail was now overseeing the soldier’s missions and the tech team was looking after his care. They weren’t happy with the way it was but Strucker couldn’t afford to lose another handler yet. 

“Where do you want me to look?” Mikhail asked, always ready to please. 

Strucker didn’t answer immediately. “I have someone I need to talk to.” He dismissed Mikhail with a vague wave, his mind already busy with his next plan. He wanted to recreate Zola’s soldier. He wanted five soldiers that could overthrow any government, or organization he chose.

Not that he wasn’t happy with the one soldier he had now, but there were a few problems cropping up. First off, something had gone very wrong.   
The soldier was a highly trained sniper and fighter but he had turned on a few of the agents, hurting them.  
The Baron had thought Vasily would be able to break him of that. Instead, the soldier had killed his handler. That was a problem. The soldier could not be allowed to indulge in his bouts of aggression. Unfortunately, stopping him wasn't easy. He was also paranoid according to Mikhail. This was not ideal. It made him jumpy. Having people touching him startled him. 

It brought him to his next problem with the soldier. Someone hadn’t been careful last time he’d gone into cryo and now he seemed to be bordering on incontinence. The startling reflex and the aggression was making that situation worse. Not that it should be a big deal, but it was. Mikhail did not want to change diapers and he did not toilet train. Neither did his agents and the techs had expressed displeasure when he’d mentioned it. Punishing the soldier wasn’t helping either, although Strucker sometimes did it just for fun anyway. However, it looked like he might have to do something because the soldier had wet pants too often. 

He was thoroughly frustrated with the situation. Pushing that aside, he picked up the phone and called Howard Stark. 

When the man answered, Strucker put on a jovial tone and tried to make small talk. He really hated small talk. However, when the subject turned to science, there was no further need.

Stark talked easily about what he was working on.   
Strucker waited until he was done chattering and then said, “Can you recreate the super soldier serum, Mr. Stark?”

Howard was very quiet and then asked, “Why would you want that, Sir?”

Strucker looked at the soldier sitting patiently on his chair. “To help the world. We lost our dear Captain America. We have to try our best to find another.”

Again, Howard was quiet, before responding, “You will never find another man as good as Steve Rogers.” 

Strucker smiled, happy to know he had successfully planted the idea in the man’s head. “Of course not,” he soothed. “It was just a thought.”

He hung up the phone. “Soldat.” 

The asset looked up, waiting for instructions.   
  
“Find the techs. It’s time for you to sleep.” 

He looked in confusion at the Baron. It wasn’t bedtime. It was morning! However, he did as told and went to relay the message.   
A few moments later, he understood, as they stripped him and strapped him to the table. The cold sleep. 

The tech at his head washed his face carefully. “This time be careful putting the catheter in! Last time something went wrong. He’s losing control. Strucker’s not happy!” 

“I think it’s more likely the freezing and thawing,” the cath tech said cattily. “I did my work fine.” She slipped the catheter in to drain his bladder.   
  
There was no more arguing as he was washed, dried and placed in the capsule. A few moments later, darkness settled over him.   
/////

Strucker worked tirelessly to find the right people for his experiment. At first, he blackmailed people into being a part of his project. He tried different combinations of medications without success. One by one the subjects failed and died. That was when he knew he needed the serum to recreate the soldiers.   
It had been almost two years since he’d talked to Stark. He wondered if there had been any attempts. He sent one of his agents to the United States to find out. 

Strucker waited impatiently for word from his agent. Stark had surely made some progress! He wanted to get his soldiers trained. The Siberian government needed to be quieted. The governor was making noise about how many of his subjects were succumbing to illness after the rounds of medication were finished. 

The agent reported a month later that Stark was still dilly dallying and was only beginning to play around with the idea of creating more serum. 

Frustrated, Strucker began his experimenting again. When a government official came to see what he was doing, the baron smooth talked his way out of a heap of trouble.  
  
After that, Strucker buried his project under more legal forms of scientific research. The government approved his project to oversee army training camps in Russia. Under this pretence he had no end of test subjects for his project. When there was an incident where a soldier did succumb to the treatment Strucker now had a man on the inside who kept the governor quiet. 

With no one to stop him, Strucker slowly infiltrated more army bases and took trained soldiers instead of new recruits to experiment on. This was helpful because they were less likely to die as quickly. 

  
Within five years, no one even asked anymore about his clandestine affairs. Hydra was a little known group by this time, but the name Strucker was widely known as a great scientist whom only the elite were chosen to work with. He didn’t have to coerce anyone anymore. They came willingly.   
//////

The soldier awoke slowly, his eyelashes heavy with drops of water. “Steve,” he whispered hoarsely. Why was the name on his mind? Maybe his mind had dreamt something while he slept. He had no context for the name that he could remember. He tried to see the people around him but he couldn’t move his hand to wipe the water from his face. A warm towel as applied and his vision cleared.

His mind was disturbingly empty. Only the name. Steve. He let the name float into the darkness of his amnesia and tried to take stock of his surroundings. Lots of white coated people wandered around the table where he lay, looking at him, but not really seeing him. He wasn’t really a man anymore. He was a machine. Machines had no emotions. A tube was forced down his nose and into his stomach. He couldn’t thrash even though his brain protested and he whimpered. Machines shouldn’t feel...should they?

Two of the technicians rolled him to one side and then he was rolled back, his limbs flopping helplessly. There was a soft padding under him now. A vague memory of needing pressed at the darkness. He needed something when they brought his body back to life like this. He couldn’t form the complete thought though. His hand fluttered slightly in an attempt to communicate his confusion. He had slight feeling in his arm now. 

He felt his legs being spread and then something was pulled up between his thighs and fastened around his waist. He gave the tech by his head a very perplexed look. What was this? He didn’t understand. Why? He wasn’t a child. 

He had little time to react as the tube was adjusted. Puréed slop was pushed through the nose tube. The nausea that accompanied the sudden intrusion into his sensitive stomach made him throw up. They rolled him on his side so he wouldn’t choke. 

Some arguing took place as to whose fault it was and who would clean up and then they proceeded to just push more through. 

The soldier’s eyes watered from the effort to stop from puking again. He couldn’t stop the sudden heat however when his bladder gave out, making humiliation spread through him as quickly as the warm urine soaked into the thick padding between his thighs. What was going on?

“He’s wet,” one of the techs said blandly. 

“Then change him,” another answered testily. 

“Are you freaking serious?” The first one whined. “I’m not changing diapers.” 

“Then you’re off the tech team,” came the terse reply. “Strucker has ordered him put in diapers. He’s not getting better.”

“Not a fuckin babysitter,” the agent growled but proceeded to change the wet diaper. “Get Reggie to do it next time.”

Once the soldier was properly awake, they made sure he was dry, then dressed him and brought him before Mikhail. 

The Hydra commander looked him over and nodded. “We have a mission soldier. You and I are going to meet the Secretary of State, Alexander Pierce, in the United States. He has great aspirations. He has brought Hydra into SHIELD.”

The soldier didn’t say anything. He stood calmly while a young agent was chosen to accompany them to look after the soldier. He did not want to be checked again to see if he was wet. He determined to hold it. 

The flight to the United States was long. The soldier was wet when they landed. He was impatient to get off the private jet. A leash was snapped to his vest. Mikhail tugged on it. “Come.” He balked at it, protesting with small whimpers. 

Mikhail delivered a stunning blow to his face. “Stop it. Immediately!” 

Tears came to the soldier’s eyes but he plodded obediently after them. They took him to a house he didn’t recognize where the agent was ordered to change him. He blushed at the ridicule that the agent spouted while he did his duty. 

The Asset was glad when he was fully dressed again. When he was taken to meet the secretary, however, he did not like the predatory smile that the man directed at him. His eyes were cold and calculating. 

Alexander Pierce looked the soldier over greedily, focusing on his build and his prosthetic. “I want him.” 

Mikhail shrugged. “That is up to the Baron.” The soldier breathed a little easier. 

“I’m going to put in a request for him,” Pierce stated. He gazed at the soldier again. “I'd like to have him.” 

Mikhail didn’t answer. “Let’s talk about Stark. Has he made the serum? Strucker is growing impatient.”

Pierce smiled. “He has some that is still in the experimental stages. He says by 1990 he will have it perfected.” 

“That’s two years away,” Mikhail frowned. “Get me the experimental serum.” 

The soldier was directed to the place where the serum was kept. He obediently followed orders and retrieved the serum. 

“That was easy,” Pierce laughed. “Now I have someone else for you to see.”

The soldier was confused when they went to an army base next. There were young cadets running their training courses and some being subjected to the sharp tongue of an irate corporal. 

Pierce grinned at Mikhail. “There is a cadet here that I’ve got my eye on. He will make a very good Hydra agent.”

Mikhail didn’t respond but watched the young man that Alexander pointed out. “Who is he?” 

“Brock Rumlow. He’s been in the army for a year or two already and he’s being put into specialized training. Special ops.” 

The soldier stared at the dark haired cadet who met his gaze straight on without flinching. Something about the man was intriguing. His face was hard but there was a hint of kindness about the eyes.

“You see in him what I see,” Pierce murmured to Mikhail, seeing the Russian’s immediate interest. “He will be trained to handle the soldier.”

“He will make a good handler when he’s done his training.” Mikhail’s gaze followed the young soldier. “In the meantime, we will have to find another handler.”

When they were back in the vehicle, Pierce suddenly turned to the soldier. “You need a strong handler.” 

The Asset nodded a little. He vaguely remembered his last handler. 

“He killed his last handler,” Mikhail scowled. “We have someone at the Siberian base who will take over when we get back. He’s aggressive at times.”

Pierce studied the soldier closely. “I don’t care. I don’t want you to take him back. Tell Strucker I wish to bargain for the soldier.”

The Asset quailed slightly. He was afraid of this man. He would much rather go back to Strucker. 

He wished he had a choice.


	12. Chapter 12

To the soldier’s great relief, Strucker refused to let Pierce have him. He said he needed him for awhile yet. 

Pierce tried to bargain. Strucker finally said, “Get me the serum from Howard Stark and I’ll consider a trade.” 

Alexander Pierce immediately made plans to speed up the progress that Stark was making. 

The Baron was somewhat satisfied with the experimental serum that they returned with. He immediately gave it to one of the strongest soldiers he’d acquired. He watched him closely, unable to hide his excitement when the man went through the training course easily.   
  
The Asset had watched the procedure and wondered what the Baron hoped to accomplish with the bag of blue fluid. He didn’t remember that he was enhanced with the same fluid. 

In fact, he couldn’t remember much of anything. They had put him in the chair again, after he had escaped from his cell. He had also forgotten why he should be embarrassed of his bodily functions. Yet, when he lost bowel control a few days later, he was embarrassed and humiliated at the agent’s derogatory comments. At least, he thought that must be what the unpleasant emotions were that coursed through him. 

Mikhail waited impatiently for the tech to finish changing the Asset. “What’s taking so long?” He demanded. “Strucker is waiting!”

“He made a mess.” The tech made a face as he finished cleaning the soldier and put a fresh diaper on him. “There. He’s ready.”

Mikhail got him dressed in his tac gear, grinning with anticipation. “We’ll see what you can do now, Soldier.” 

The Asset didn’t speak. He nodded, following the commander to a room he was unfamiliar with. There was nothing in the large space that was surrounded by bars like a prison cell. 

“Come,” Mikhail said, with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Three men came into the pen from the other side. One of them fidgeted impatiently looking the soldier up and down. “I will tear you apart!” He spat out in Russian.

The soldier met his gaze. “I’d like to see you try.”   
  
Strucker was there and watching greedily. “Let them begin!”

Mikhail nodded. “ Don’t kill him,” he warned. 

The Asset was only dazed for a minute when the other man attacked him without warning. He threw him off easily with his left arm. However, the serum enhanced man bounced back up, filled with rage. He attacked again, looking for a weakness. 

The Asset blocked his blows successfully, pushing back enough to stay alive. He didn’t attack until a particularly brutal hit knocked his flesh shoulder out of joint. His angry howl of pain was the only warning they got before he charged and punched his opponent in the jaw. He started to choke the man. 

“Get them separated,” Strucker demanded. He didn’t want the new man killed immediately. 

The first two agents who got between the two soldiers were quickly dispatched. Six more were sent in with stun batons and finally they were able to goad the newest soldier to his cell, locking the door. 

The soldier was breathing heavily, blood seeping out of a cut on his cheek and running out of nose. His fists were clenched and eyes still hazed with red. He warily eyed the agents with crackling batons but didn’t back down. 

Mikhail called to him. “Come!” 

He turned on the commander, lightning quick. Still feeling enraged, he tried to get his hands around the commander’s throat. He would have succeeded except that all six stun batons were used on him at once and he fell. 

He was jerked to his feet. “What was that?!” The commander screamed in his face. Ten minutes later, Mikhail beat him with a flogger until he was screaming. “Don’t ever attack me again you fool!” 

The soldier’s bleeding back healed by the next day but the punishment caused the soldier to cower away from Mikhail’s touch. The commander showed him his hands. “I have nothing except your food. Eat.” 

But he refused to eat for him. Mikhail did not tell Strucker this. Instead, he punished him again and again. He was determined to make the soldier obey. Every day he carried his whip because the soldier was aggressive with him. 

The more he threatened, and beat him, the worse it got however. It was a good thing the tech team changed him because the commander couldn’t get close. He would start to fight him before he even came near.   
Mikhail finally gave up and called the young handler that Strucker had hired. “Feed him!”

Isaak looked at the soldier, weak from not eating but still looking terrifying. “Da, Ser!”

The soldier warily followed the young man to the table where he was given his shake. He drank eagerly and was given a second one. 

Isaak nodded with a pleased smile. “Good boy.” He touched the soldier’s shoulder gently. 

The Asset flinched away from his touch, wide, startled eyes on him. Isaak frowned and gently touched him again. This time the soldier leaned into his touch a little. 

Isaak was gentle and gained his trust in the next several weeks. The soldier was eager to please him. No matter what he was asked, he did it with precision and skill. Mikhail stayed away from him now. He had no desire to die. 

Isaak gained his trust, teaching him better hand to hand combat skills and they spent many hours in the gym, training. The Asset began to relax slightly. Other than the incontinence, he was strong and perfect.   


A mission that Isaak and the soldier were sent on changed it all though. The soldier worked hard to do everything his handler told him to do. Yet, the mission was failed because of circumstances beyond their control.

Mikhail yelled at Isaak and the handler punished the soldier by dumping his shake down the drain. “A failed mission means no food! You are a disgrace.”

The Asset sat alone in his cell and cried softly. He had not cried for a very long time. A disgrace, a humiliation to Hydra. The next time it happened, he didn’t cry. He knew he’d failed. He did not deserve food.

////

Strucker was somewhat happy with his newest soldier although he showed more aggression and had tendencies to fly off the handle more than the first one. Training had to be done with whips, stun batons and sessions in the chair. He killed several agents without remorse. Strucker wondered if it had to do with the serum. It seemed to make every bad trait worse.   


He pitted the soldiers against each other again to see how far they’d come. The eight agents circled them with their batons at the ready. They pushed the two together goading them into fighting. They’d both been given instructions not to kill each other. 

The Asset impatiently pushed his long dark hair out of his face. He had a lot of pent up rage that he was trying to control. 

The blonde soldier smirked at him. “Fight me, you idiot.”

The brunette let his fist fly, knocking back the other man several feet. Charging like an angry bull, he attacked the dark haired soldier with both fists. 

The Asset lost the battle with his control and suddenly the fight turned in his favour. He threw agents out of the way, screaming angrily. His metal fist knocked the other soldier out for a few seconds. He grabbed a stun baton from one of the downed agents, and beat the blonde soldier until he stopped breathing.

Strucker was yelling commands and there were agents running to aid the fallen soldier. The Asset continued to fight, out of control.

The chaos continued for several minutes until Strucker threw a flash bomb into the pen, startling him out of his tantrum long enough for six agents to take him down. “Freeze him!” Strucker ordered angrily. 

The Asset was chained, wiped and shortly after, he was placed in the cryofreeze chamber, his silent plea for understanding ignored. He had been following orders. It wasn’t his fault that the other soldier had been aggressive. He didn’t want to sleep. He shivered slightly, closing his eyes. Perhaps he needed to, though. 


	13. Chapter 13

The soldier was awakened eighteen months later, for a mission. Mikhail hoped that his aggression was better. Strucker was still angry about losing his second enhanced asset.

Isaak was impatient with the Asset. He’d been told in no uncertain terms that he had to be stricter with him. 

When the soldier had been awake for several hours, Isaak took him to the kitchen and gave him his shake. “Drink!”

The soldier frowned at it but drank slowly. His stomach was always sensitive when he was coming out of cryo. Didn’t his handler understand that? He tried to sip slowly so the nausea didn’t overwhelm him. 

Isaak looked at him. “We need to go on a mission in two days.”

The Asset looked at him and shrugged. Fine. Whatever. He had no say in it anyway. 

“You will go through training today and tomorrow, is that clear?” Isaak studied the silent soldier. “Speak to me! Answer!”

The soldier lowered the cup and straw. “Training.” His words were coming hard today. He figured the freezing must have made him tired. 

Isaak settled down. “Yes. Mikhail will take you through the courses.”

The Asset paused. “No.” He did not like the commander! He was far too free with his whip and baton. The soldier couldn’t please him no matter how hard he tried! 

“What did you say?!” Isaak didn’t wait for him to repeat himself. His hand connected with the Asset’s cheek, making the soldier cry out and drop his drink. He was glad there was a lid on it. 

“Don't talk back! Mikhail will teach you what you need to know.” Isaak stared at him. “Understood?!”

The soldier nodded, picking his cup up with shaky hands. Tears threatened to overflow. He was confused. The soldier didn’t cry! He finished his shake and was taken to the technicians for changing.   
  
The nausea made his stomach cramp painfully. He flushed hotly at the complaining from the tech at changing a messy diaper. What else was he supposed to do? He said nothing, however.

After that, Mikhail took him to the training room.

The soldier looked askance at the new man in the room, equipped with a baton. 

Mikhail smiled a little. “Agent Colburn, this is the Asset. He’s strong and highly skilled but he needs to be kept firmly in hand. Don’t be afraid to use your baton.”

Colburn ran his eyes over the soldier. “Why do you need me? He looks combat ready.”

Mikhail sighed. “He’s not. He needs to be prepped and strengthened for bringing in the five new recruits. Strucker finally knows when he’s getting the serum.”

The agent pursed his lips. “Is he always this quiet?”

Mikhail chuckled slightly. “The brainwashing is successful but does have side effects, one being his conversational skills.”

The soldier suddenly understood that his lack of cohesive thoughts had nothing to do with sleep or lack thereof; it was the chair. 

Isaak entered the room to watch the proceedings. He hoped the Asset would be obedient. It fell directly on his shoulders when the soldier acted out. He didn’t know why the Asset was so difficult at times. It seemed like maybe he could be obedient only so long and then all the emotions and anger at being made to obey bubbled over and he freaked out. He didn’t know. He wasn’t a psychiatrist! 

Mikhail pointed. “Put him on the pegboard. He needs strength and endurance training. Starting with that will get him warmed up.”

Colburn strode forward. “C’mon. Grab the pegs.”

The soldier gave him a cold look before grabbing the two pegs and easily making his way up the pegboard on the wall and back down twice.

“Good,” Colburn said. “Onto the bars.”

The Asset obediently swung onto the chin up bar, pulling himself up slow and easy until his right arm started to shake. The nausea was coming back. He dropped to the floor and rubbed his right bicep. Colburn struck him across the face. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

The soldier frowned in confusion. He had worked much harder than he should on the first day but, he pulled himself up again. His stomach didn’t like the exercise. He swallowed hard. 

“Try not to antagonize him too much,” Isaak chuckled. “I gotta try and keep him under control.” 

Colburn shrugged. “Okay. Get down. Run the perimeter.” 

The soldier landed softly on his feet and started to do laps while the agent, the commander and the handler watched. He’d only gone around halfway when he couldn’t hold down his dinner. He fell to one knee, vomiting onto the floor. He cringed as he expected punishment. 

“Too much for the first day,” Mikhail commented.

Isaak nodded. “I thought he might get sick.” He pulled the Asset to his feet and gave him a bottle of water. “Rest for five minutes then do your laps.”

The soldier nodded, drinking down the water. His stomach hurt and his muscles screamed but he did as told. 

Strucker came in and joined them in watching the Asset do his laps for a few minutes then turned to Mikhail. “After the mission tomorrow, we will keep the Asset in his cell. Alexander Pierce is coming to work with him for a few days.”

Mikhail glanced sideways at the Baron. “Yes Sir.”

Isaak frowned at the Commander when Strucker had gone. “He’s not in the best frame of mind. I wish Pierce would wait.”

“Not my place,” Mikhail shrugged. 

When the soldier was done his laps, Isaak took him to shower. “Good job.” The soldier beamed. He’d done right! The warm shower felt good on his aching muscles. After his shower, he was diapered, dressed and then given his shake. 

Isaak watched him closely. “After this you must get a good rest. The commander said we leave at 0500 hours.” 

The soldier acknowledged the information, finished his shake and then let Isaak lead him to his cell. He obediently lay down and closed his eyes. It was time to sleep. He put a finger in his mouth and sucked on it softly to soothe himself. His entire body hurt. He eventually fell asleep. 

At 0400 hours, he was awakened, fed, changed and dressed in short order. Isaak wasn’t in a mood to talk and simply pointed from one thing to the next as the technicians prepared the soldier. He was leashed and handed over to the commander. He had to get ready as well. 

He quietly waited while Mikhail gave orders to some other agents. The commander jerked his leash. “Come.” He followed Mikhail to the vehicle and sat still so he could be strapped in. 

The drive was long. Isaak was not impressed that he had to change a diaper when they got to their first stop. “Good thing the targets don’t know that you’re still in diapers! They’d laugh themselves into a coma.” He scowled at Mikhail. “Why didn’t we bring a tech??”

Mikhail laughed. “That’s why he has a handler! Strucker doesn’t want the techs changing him anymore. 

The soldier blushed again but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t help it! Anger bubbled up but he quickly put a cap on it. Once he was clean and dry, he was given instructions. With a nod, he left the transport, making his way into the army base where he would retrieve the first three of Strucker’s recruits. 

He stayed out of sight, carefully watching the activities going on at six AM. He tossed a small grenade onto the floor for a distraction. When it went off, it caused a flurry of activity during which he quickly snuck into the barracks. He picked out the three easily enough. As soon as they saw him, they knew what to do.   
  
In ten minutes, the soldiers were in the transport and they were off to the next stop. When they pulled up to the prison, Isaak’s eyes widened. “How the hell is he supposed to get in there?? They have metal detectors!”

Mikhail rolled his eyes. “He’s not. He’s going to be the distraction. I’m going on.”

The Asset waited calmly for instructions and when he was told what to do, he did it without question. He shot his gun into the air, causing all the guards to run towards him. Without warning, he tossed them back until one shot into his shoulder. He screamed in pain. 

Isaak jumped from the transport, shooting at the guards. He knew if he lost the Asset, it would be his head on Strucker’s chopping block! At the sudden gunfire, the guards scattered, running for cover. Isaak helped the soldier to the transport quickly, just as Mikhail returned as well with two burly prisoners.   
  


“He got shot!” Isaak yelled as the transport careened out of the prison yard. “They fucking shot him!!”   
  


“Calm down,” Mikhail said testily. “He’ll heal. He’s being a baby.”

Isaak looked at the soldier, hunched over, holding his shoulder tightly with his prosthetic. “Can we give him something for the pain?”   
  


Mikhail shrugged. “He’ll be fine.”

Suddenly the Asset screamed and jumped at Mikhail, his metal hand reaching for the commander’s throat. He was hazy with pain and his anger broke through the tight control.   
  


For a few minutes it was total chaos as Mikhail tried to fight him off and Isaak tried to regain control. “Soldier! Stand down!” He shouted, trying to get through to the enraged man.   
  


The Asset suddenly turned on him, connecting his metal fist with part of Isaak’s neck and shoulder, sending the handler back into the wall of the van, to crumple to the floor.   
  


Mikhail grabbed at a small vial of sedative and shot it into the soldier’s neck. He was breathing heavily, ready to defend himself again. He didn’t dare look away until the Asset sank to his knees, and fell against his seat. Together with a few of the others, they lifted him into his seat and fastened the harness. He turned to Isaak who was breathing but still out. “Get to a hospital,” he told the driver tersely. 

///////

When they were back at the base, and the soldier had been locked into his cell after receiving treatment for his shoulder, Mikhail gave Strucker the rundown of what happened. 

The Baron listened without comment. “Second handler he’s taken out. You know what? Tell Pierce he can have him after December sixteenth. I need him that night.”

“For the serum?” Mikhail asked, tenderly rubbing at the bruises on his neck. 

The Baron smiled slightly. “Howard and Maria Stark. They’re going to be on their way to the airport. They want to get out of here. Howard came down here to finish with his serum with the help of a Swiss scientist.” 

Mikhail nodded. “And the others? We put them in cells for now.”

“They can stay there,” the Baron said. “If the serum makes the soldier this aggressive, I don’t want to be anywhere near them.” 

/////

Alexander Pierce strode into the Siberian base as if he owned the place. Strucker greeted him as an equal.   
  
Pierce requested immediate access to the soldier. The Baron took him to the Asset’s cell and smiled when Pierce almost drooled over his new acquisition. “Where is his handler?”

Strucker looked at the ceiling for a moment, feigning disinterest. “He put Isaak in the hospital.”

Pierce ran his eyes greedily over the Asset again. In a few weeks he’d have him! “I have someone in mind.”

By that evening, the soldier had been subjected to Pierce’s particular brand of punishment. He’d been whipped first of all for hurting his handler, and then he’d been put through his paces by the secretary. Every time he stumbled from the effects of the sedative, Pierce hit him with a baton or his hand. By evening, the soldier was weary.   
  


“Wipe him!” Pierce ordered. “I need a clean slate to work with.”

The soldier fought going into the chair. He stared at the blonde haired secretary fearfully. This man had a lot of power!   
  


The chair wiped his mind clean, void of any cohesive thought or even random fantasies. He lay blankly in his cell afterwards. Pierce stood over him, baton still crackling. “You will learn to obey, soldier.”

The Asset looked at him, without understanding. “Obey,” he echoed softly.

Pierce nodded. “You will. There will be no more of this aggression. Now sleep. If you can be good, you’ll get food tomorrow.”

The soldier watched him walk away, frightened by this man. He felt threatened to his very core by him. Tomorrow he would listen. Tomorrow he needed to obey. 

Pierce was satisfied with the Asset’s performance. He left after three days, more excited than ever to get his hands on the soldier back in the United States. 

Strucker almost breathed a sigh of relief when Pierce left. He wouldn’t say he felt sorry for the soldier, exactly. He needed the harsher discipline that Pierce would give him. But Pierce was tough. However, he knew the soldier would only be good for another few years of wiping. He was done with him after the sixteenth.   
  


/////

Alexander Pierce sat in his office, quite pleased with himself. The Baron had finally called. He needed the man Pierce had chosen for a handler.  
He hung up the phone and looked at one of his newest hires. “Rumlow, you’re headed to Siberia.” 


End file.
